


Holding on to Hope

by IrrelevantEmily



Series: Holding on to Hope Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Boypussy Blaine Anderson, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Blaine Anderson, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrrelevantEmily/pseuds/IrrelevantEmily
Summary: With Kurt away on business for Vogue.com, Blaine, feeling lonely, decides to attend a NYADA party with his roommates Rachel and Santana. After he has a little too much to drink, things take a dramatic turn for the worse. He must now live through what feels like a never ending nightmare.Feeling as though he cannot ask for help, will things ever get better for Blaine?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Holding on to Hope Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726237
Comments: 44
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Who's the Father?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/614320) by FrostedHoodies. 



> Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Please read the warnings in the tags before reading, this story has mature themes  
> Also, if you are not a fan of boypussy or mpreg, this is not the story for you.
> 
> I was inspired to write this story after I read, "Who's the Father?" by FrostedHoodies. I simply wanted to know more, but seeing as it was marked complete, and was written 7 years ago, I figured I'd have to write the story myself.
> 
> Please excuse any inaccuracies regarding American culture, as I am from the UK.  
> I hope you enjoy!

He stumbles home feeling empty, soulless, like an empty shell of a human. There’s a sharp pain shooting down his right leg which makes him limp, and he can feel the evidence of what just happened leaking down the back of his thighs. He’s in shock.

Fellow pedestrians on the street spare him no notice; it’s a dark night in New York, and there are a few noisy, drunk college kids nearby. He probably looks like he’s coming home from a good night out drinking. He wishes that was the case.

Later, as he sinks to the floor of the bathtub, the shower spraying cold water onto his back, the reality of the situation hits him. Harsh sobs echo in the room, but there’s no one there to hear them. Rachel and Santana must still be at the party, and Kurt’s away for business with Vogue.com.

Attending the NYADA party seemed like a good idea at the time. He was missing Kurt and looking for a way to have fun and meet new people. Having too much to drink, and being pulled towards an unfamiliar dorm room was not part of the plan. Being pinned down on a bed, and having horrible things whispered into his ear as he’s assaulted wasn’t either.

His body is bruised, there are some scratches around his hips, and his pants have stains on them. These can be wrapped up and put in the garbage in the morning, but there isn’t much he can do for his body or his state of mind. Lasting reminders are left behind, some perhaps forever, but he tries to forget this one night, hoping sleep will come to him.

* * *

Welcoming Kurt back home hurts in a new way. It’s the first-time guilt starts to become a frequent feeling of his. He knows that Kurt can sense something’s off, he’s usually extremely excited welcoming him home, but he couldn’t help acting withdrawn. Feigning being ill helped to avoid any _activities_ he currently couldn’t face. Activities he didn’t know how he’d ever be able to face again.

He knows he should tell him, or report the incident. The longer he waits, the harder it will be to prove. But he can’t do it. Every time he tries to say something, he gets a lump in his throat and he gets a pang of anxiety in his stomach. He’s always been self-conscious and riddled with self-doubt, so he’s worried his confession will be accused of being a cover-up for him cheating again. It's probably better to try to suppress the memory all together, pretend it didn’t happen. Is it healthy? No, but it’s the only choice he feels like he has.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kurt asks as Blaine walks out of their bedroom. He’s sitting at the dining table reading the morning paper. “You’ve been acting weird since I’ve come back.”

This is his opportunity, the perfect time to tell him. “I umm… I-I think I’ve just… just picked up a bug, or something.” He turns away to face the couch, mentally berating himself for wasting yet another chance to confess. “Just feeling a little under the weather, you know,” he says, smiling sadly at Kurt.

Kurt sets his paper down on the table, and walks over to him, placing a hand on his forehead. “Well you don’t have a fever, but I still think you should take it easy for the day. Do you want me to make you my special chicken soup that you like when you're ill?”

“Extra crème fraiche on top?” he mumbles, nuzzling his head into Kurt’s hands.

“Of course, honey.”

* * *

As the weeks pass, he’s able to suppress the memory better. He’s still out of sorts, but his acting skills are finally able to kick in, allowing him to pretend around his roommates. However, as he starts to act better, he feels much worse.

“Baby?” Kurt opens the door to find Blaine slumped over the toilet where he’d emptied the contents of his stomach. “Maybe you should call in sick today? I haven’t got class today, I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m okay,” he replies, gingerly getting up from his position on the floor, “I already feel better, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if you start to feel unwell again, promise me you’ll come straight home.”

“I promise,” he mumbles as he starts to clean his teeth.

Kurt wraps his arms around his waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay B? You’ve been unwell since I came back from being away. That was a month ago.”

He spits out the toothpaste and rinses his mouth, “I’m probably just getting used to the city still. New York’s much more fast paced than _Lima Ohio_. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Blaine, we’re getting married. Aren’t we supposed to get worried about each other? I’m really trying to make this work, so no secrets. You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment too long. That too familiar feeling of guilt overwhelms him as he wills himself to respond. He’s not stupid, he knows what these symptoms could be, he’s just too scared to admit it.

He makes eye contact with Kurt in the mirror, managing to force himself to say, “Of course.”

* * *

The sickness and nausea persist. He works out a way to hide it, waking up early and avoiding foods that seem to set it off. However, his act is not perfect, and he can tell that Kurt is suspicious. The fact that they haven’t been intimate in around three months now is surely not lost on him. The act however does seem to be working for Rachel and Santana, who never seem to have a moment when they are not busy, and therefore don’t pay him too much attention.

Lately, panic has been brewing inside of him. He’s been trying to ignore his symptoms, pretending that this isn’t happening, but he knows he needs to face up to the situation.

“I’m just heading out to the shops, is there anything you wanted?” He calls out one morning. He knows Kurt and Rachel both have a recital in their dance class today, and Santana is working the late shift at the diner. That means an empty apartment.

Kurt’s head pokes out from the bathroom as he rubs one of his many facial creams into his face, looking far too adorable. “I’ve just used the last of my moisturiser, do you think you could pick me up another? I don’t want to break out after getting sweaty today at this dance recital.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Blaine moves from his position near the door to give Kurt a goodbye kiss, but Kurt stops him, resting his hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye.

“And maybe, if today goes well, we could celebrate by ending our dry spell?” Kurt’s giving him that look, the one where he looks up at him shyly through his eyelashes, the one that usually turns him into a pile of jelly.

“Oh… u-um yeah, s-sure,” he manages to stutter, and Kurt gives him a long kiss, gentle but full of promise.

“Ooh, what’s gotten into you two today?” Rachel teases as she leaves her bedroom.

“Nothing,” Kurt pulls back and straightens Blaine’s bow tie, “Am I not allowed to kiss my _fiancé_ in the morning?”

“Anything you want from the shops Rachel?”

“Aww, you’re such a sweetheart Blaine,” she pinches his cheek, “but no, I don’t think I need anything. I’ve been preparing for my dance recital so my focus has been completely taken up with keeping myself on top form, and I haven’t even had time to think about any indulgences.”

He sees Kurt roll his eyes and has to suppress a grin, “Right, okay well good luck with your recital. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

The walk to the supermarket is far too long. He doesn’t like going out in public these days. He has an irrational fear that he’ll see a familiar face that will expose his shame.

Checking over his shoulder for anyone he knows, he finds the health and beauty aisle. He feels out of his depth when he finds the pregnancy tests, there are so many different types to choose from. Should he get one of the more expensive ones? Should he get more than one? What if he gets a false-positive? Or worse, what if he gets a false-negative?

After spending far too much time staring at the shelves, he decides to buy three: an expensive one, a mid-ranged one, and a cheap one. Hiding them beneath Kurt’s moisturiser, he makes his way to the self-checkout; there’s no way he’s enduring any judgemental looks today.

Back at the apartment, he stashes them at the back of his drawer, inside a pair of socks, before he heads off to his first class, praying Santana doesn’t snoop through their things again.

* * *

He makes it back home just after five when he knows Santana will have left for work. Kurt and Rachel will be in the middle of their assessment about now, so he has about two hours before they get back, maybe three if they go out to celebrate.

Setting the three tests down on the sink, he looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is breaking out of the mould of his gel, and his face is as pale as a ghost. In the end he decides to do all three to know for sure, and he sets a timer for five minutes.

The ability for men to get pregnant is not uncommon. They say around fifteen percent of the male population are born with vaginas, and thus the ability to bear children. It’s the only anatomically different part of themselves, except higher than average breast tissue which allows for breast feeding postpartum. The only reason male pregnancies are becoming more common and well known is because of decreasing homophobia, and increasing numbers of gay people coming out of the closet. It’s not homophobia that has Blaine worried though.

He remembers the night before Kurt went away.

_He falls onto Kurt’s chest, sweaty and stated, them both trying to catch their breath. Kurt fiddles with his hair as he nuzzles his face into the gap between Kurt’s neck and shoulder_

_“Oh, I’m going to miss you,” Kurt cooed._

_Not feeling as though he can currently respond, he turns to look into Kurt’s eyes, and for a second, he’s taken back by the amount of love they contain. Feeling like the luckiest man on the planet that that love is for him, he hides his grin into Kurt’s skin._

_The moment however cannot last forever, and the sticky mess below makes him squirm. After giving Kurt a gentle slap for snorting at his reaction, he slowly pulls off of him. As he goes to remove the condom, he notices that it’s broken, and its previous contents is currently leaking out of him._

_“Oh no,” he whispers, “Kurt…”_

_Kurt looks down to the problem, and pushes his unruly curls off of his sweaty forehead. “It’ll be okay,” he says, pressing a kiss to his hairline, “We can’t do anything now, don’t worry.”_

Sitting here now, watching the timer on his phone count down the last minute, he’s glad that it happened because it gives him hope. Hope that it isn’t the other possibility.

_“Take it, I know you want it,” there’s a gravelly voice in his ear. “I could tell you were a slut when I saw you on that dance floor.”_

_His arms are pinned uncomfortably above his head, and his face is pushed into the pillow, making it hard to breathe. A hand is digging into his hip, and he’s pretty sure it’s making him bleed. The sound of slapping skin echos around the room, a sick imitation of a loving act._

_He tries to keep himself sane by recounting all he must do. He knows he hasn't used a condom; he will need to get tested. He knows he’s sweating and bleeding; he will need to take a shower. And he knows his clothes are ruined; he will need to throw them away._

_The problem is, once he’s finished, he can only focus on what’s happening to him. He can only hope it ends soon._

Memories are cruel. Memories never truly go away. It has taken him months to suppress that night, but only all of thirty seconds for it all to flood right back to him. He knew forcing himself to ignore it wouldn’t work for long, but he’d hoped he could have some peace for a little while longer.

The timer goes off. His five minutes are up. Standing up shakily, he makes his way over to the sink where he’d left them. After a deep breath to compose himself, he looks down.

Three positives.


	2. Chapter 2

Sobs, similar to those he had three months earlier, echo around the loft for about an hour before they subside. He staggers around the loft, disposes of the tests (outside so Santana won’t find them), and finds the NyQuil. After taking what’s probably too large a dose, he goes straight to bed falling asleep immediately.

He doesn’t hear Rachel and Kurt come in, laughing and chattering after a successful recital. He doesn’t hear Kurt call his name, trying to find him. He doesn’t hear Kurt come into the bedroom, brushing the hair off of his face and looking at him worriedly.

“Oh, what’s going on with you B?”

* * *

“I really think you should see a doctor Blaine. You’ve been ill for a really long time now, I’m getting worried.”

It had been a week since he’d taken the tests, and he’d been transported into the state of mind he was in thirteen weeks ago. He could no longer hide his morning sickness, and Kurt was getting a little agitated at his aversion to sex. He knew Kurt though, he won’t push him, and won’t ask him because he thinks he’s ill.

“I’ve already made an appointment, it’s today actually.” In reality, it was his follow up appointment to the pregnancy test he had at the OB/GYN. He’d specifically scheduled it for when Kurt was in class, to avoid him asking to come. Kurt likes to come to appointments so he can hear the information first-hand, and thus look after whoever it was to the best of his ability. In any other situation, he’d be grateful.

Kurt picks up his bag, and moves over towards him. “Tell me how it goes, okay?”

“Yes sir.” He salutes, and Kurt gives him a mock glare before he kisses him goodbye.

* * *

The waiting room is far too full. This practice only has one doctor, how many people can she see in one day? Looking around, he counts two mid-twenties and four mid-thirties couples. There’s also an early-thirties gay couple, putting to rest any concerns he had about the OB/GYN dealing with male pregnancies. He’s also not the only person alone, there’s a woman who looks to be in her early-forties who doesn’t seem to have a partner with her. He does however notice that he is the youngest there, and tries to not let it ruin the calm and collected state that he had somehow been able to keep without becoming riddled with anxiety.

“Blaine Anderson?” His head jerks up at the sound of his name.

The walk to the room feels like it takes five times longer than it probably does in reality. His breath comes faster, and as he reaches out to the chair, he notices that his hands are starting to shake.

“Nice to meet you again Mr. Anderson. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that we have received your test results.” Pleased wouldn’t exactly be the word he would use. “Now your results say that HCG was found in your blood, so that means we can conclude that you _are_ pregnant.”

The slow breaths he had been taking to keep himself calm, stutter. His heart thumps painfully in his chest, and his ears rush. He focuses on trying not to cry.

“I can see that this isn’t happy news.” In this moment, he’s glad he chose this practice. The obstetrician has this calming presence, and she has an understanding look in her face, which helps him calm down.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replies.

“Well, the good news is, you have options. There’s obviously keeping the baby, but there’s also adoption or termination.”

Adoption simply isn’t an option; Kurt would know about the baby, and he’d have to come up with a convincing reason why he doesn’t want it.

“W-what would be involved in a t-termination?”

“Do you have an idea of how far along you are?”

He tries to not to feel shame from leaving it so long, “About thirteen weeks.”

“Oh,” the surprised look on her face does not fill him with too much confidence, “You’re further along than I had assumed. Unfortunately, you’re too far along for a medical termination, so you will need a surgical procedure.”

A sick feeling is starting to brew in this stomach. “Do they touch you… d-down there?”

She looks at him with a concerned expression, “Yes…” she leans forward in her chair, “Is there something troubling you?”

He’s been presented with the perfect opportunity again, to ask for help. This is the third time now, the first being at the crisis centre when he got himself examined soon after it happened, and the second being when Kurt came home. He still can’t bring himself to say it.

“N-no. Umm… I think I’ll be keeping the baby.” Saying the words aloud makes it all feel real, too real, and he’s starting to feel faint.

“Okay, so I’m going to start you on folic acid. As you think you’re quite far along, I’m going to schedule you for your first scan next week, where we can see how to baby is doing, and discuss your birth plan. This is where you’ll be able to get a sonogram picture. So, I guess I’ll see you next week.”

“Yeah… t-thank you doctor.”

As he leaves the room, his mind is running with all the things that he now needs to do. The thought that makes him stop in his tracks however, is the realisation that he needs to tell Kurt. Not only that, but he needs to tell him this week.

It’s going to be a long day.

* * *

He’s showing. Standing in front of the floor mirror in their bedroom after his morning shower, he can see the slight curve of his abdomen. The usually unnoticeable extra breast tissue he has is swelling, and his hips seem to have gotten wider. He can even see some faint stretch marks on them.

Recently he has taken to chanting under his breath, “Please be Kurt’s, please be Kurt’s, please be Kurt’s…” again and again, while he holds his new bump in the shower. The growth has made it all seem very real. There’s now noticeable proof that there is really a baby in there.

He needs to tell Kurt, and soon. He’s been thinking of ways to tell him, and has decided on over a home cooked meal. His scan is this Saturday, so he’s been able to schedule a date night with Kurt, without Rachel and Santana, on Friday. As the day creeps closer, the feeling of anxiety grows, as well as his guilt for keeping it a secret so long.

Moving towards the kitchen area, he notices that everyone has made it to breakfast before him. Kurt’s busy cooking at the stove while he talks to Rachel, who’s sitting at the table sipping what’s presumably her hot water and lemon. Santana is perched on one of the counters in her work uniform, coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other.

“Morning sweetie,” Kurt gives him a soft smile after kissing his forehead, “How’d you like some pancakes?”

“Mmm, yes please,” he pinches a blueberry out of the bowl next to Kurt, releasing a contented sigh. He’d been craving blueberries recently.

“You sure you wanna do that hobbit?” His hand freezes in mid-air as he goes to pick up another blueberry. Eyes wide, he stares at Santana, “What? Come on, we can all surely see that Borat here is suffering from a mean case of the freshman fifteen.”

If his hormones hadn’t been making him super emotional lately, he might have been completely unaffected by the latest quip from Santana. Instead he is left trying to hold back the tears stinging behind his eyes, threatening to fall. He knows his bump is getting bigger, but he thought he’d been doing a good job at hiding it beneath his baggy clothes.

“Santana! That’s extremely insensitive,” Rachel reprimands, an affronted look on her face.

“I’m just telling the truth.”

Sensing his discomfort, Kurt intervenes, “Santana, leave Blaine alone. He’s in great shape and doesn’t need your offensive comments.”

“Guys, guys,” he cuts in when sees Santana go to retaliate, “It’s fine, just leave it.” Even though he’s trying his hardest to keep himself together, he can’t help the way his voice shakes slightly.

“Blaine…” he hears Kurt say as he retreats to the bedroom.

It’s a few minutes later that Kurt appears next to where he’s lying on the bed, a tray of pancakes with a smiley face made of blueberries in his hands.

“Hey,” he whispers as he sits next to him, placing the tray on the bed and brushing his hand through the curls he’d forgone gelling down this morning. “Don’t listen to what Santana says okay. You’ll always be perfect to me.”

A throaty chuckle escapes him, turning to face Kurt. “You’re perfect to me too,” he replies.

Kurt smiles sweetly at him, and a comfortable silence hangs between them as Blaine tucks into his breakfast.

“Blaine… what they were saying in there… it’s not the reason why you’ve been distant recently is it?”

He averts his gaze to his comforter. Kurt thinks he’s been avoiding him because he’s insecure about his body. Even though he means it in a different way, it is technically the truth, so he doesn’t feel too bad about his answer.

“Yeah but I’ve been working on it,” he looks in Kurt’s eye, “I’m looking forward to our date tonight.”

“Me too.” Kurt kisses him, before leaving with a secretive smile.

* * *

Kurt arrives at the loft when the fettuccine alfredo is almost ready, and Blaine is putting the finishing touches to his fruit parfait (with extra blueberries to alleviate his craving).

“Something smells amazing,” Kurt says as he goes to wrap his arms around his waist. Realising what he was about to do, Blaine manages to slip away from his grasp.

“Have you seen the table?” He’d managed to find their best silverware, which wasn’t overly fancy considering they’re broke college kids. He’d arranged them ready for their date, in addition to flowers and candles between them, and the monogrammed napkins Kurt had bought him for their anniversary.

“Very romantic. It’s so nice to have the place to ourselves for once, we haven’t had any time alone together in too long.”

He manages to stay surprisingly calm considering he’d been feeling jittery all day, and he was particularly on edge during dinner. It’s during dessert that he can tell Kurt knows something’s up, he keeps sneaking curious glances at him as he shovels down the parfait with an excessive number of blueberries. It’s no surprise that he finishes before Kurt, and so he decides to take the leap of faith.

Taking hold of Kurt’s hand across the table, he locks eyes with him.

“Is everything okay?” Kurt gives him an encouraging smile.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Kurt’s face drops slightly, “I didn’t mean to keep it a secret for so long, but I was scared, and I didn’t want you to be upset or angry at me…” he realises he’s rambling and is grateful for the encouraging squeeze Kurt gives his hand.

“It’s okay, you can tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“I didn’t go to the doctor’s last week. I didn’t go because I knew I wasn’t sick.” He’s not sure how to explain further, so a silence hangs in the air.

He chances a look at Kurt. He’s relieved to find that he isn’t angry, but there’s a confused expression on his face, so he forces himself to continue.

“I went somewhere else because, uh… b-because I’m…” he looks into Kurt’s eyes, “I’m pregnant,” he whispers.

It takes a few seconds for the news to sink in, and Blaine feels like he’s going dizzy from holding his breath. Suddenly however, Kurt’s eyes go wide.

“You’re pregnant? We’re having a baby?” He looks so hopeful, sitting on the edge of his seat as though he’s about to jump off of it.

“Yes,” he chokes out.

Kurt then really does jump out of his chair, and tugs excitedly on the collar of his shirt until he stands up. Before he knows it, he’s being engulfed into a tight embrace and they share a passionate kiss.

Kurt pulls back and looks him in the eye, still holding him close. There are tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and he’s sure similar ones would be found in his own.

“I just, I can’t believe… I had no idea, you must be like, three months already,” he stutters. He’s not sure that Kurt’s smile could get any wider.

“Yeah, fourteen weeks. I was too nervous to find out… kept putting it off.” They stand holding one another, as they look into each other’s eyes for a long moment. “Do you want to come to my scan tomorrow?”

“Are you crazy?! Of course, I'll come!”

He notices that Kurt's eyes keep flickering down to his stomach. “You know, I've got a bump now. You’re allowed to touch.”

Kurt gasps, before dropping to his knees and rucking up his shirt, displaying his small bump. Tears are falling freely from his eyes as he gently places his hands over the bump.

“Hello baby,” he whispers, releasing a soft laugh, “I’m your Papa.”

The sinking feeling in stomach at those words reminds him of why he kept this a secret for so long, and it’s like the spell has broken. If only he was strong enough to speak of his attack, get some help and talk through his problem. He wouldn’t then be feeling so shameful about how Kurt may not even be speaking to his baby.

“This is amazing Blaine,” his attention is recaptured as Kurt stands back up, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” and he captures his lips in a deep kiss.

And if that night he is able to push away his fears, feeling overwhelmingly in love, enjoying each other’s company for the first time in months, slowly and gently, he isn’t complaining.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the morning sunlight peeking through the curtains which wakes him up. He drifts towards consciousness with a fuzzy head. It takes a moment before he realises, he’s naked, and in the darkness of the room he cannot work out where he is. The phantom feeling of too strong hands on his hips and a menacing weight over his body, causes him to take audible gasps, while a flash of familiar coloured eyes appears in his mind’s eye.

There’s a gentle hand on his arm, and a soft voice is whispering into his ear.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe.” It’s Kurt. His breaths start to slow as he gradually realises, he’s in his bedroom

There’s a long silence between them once he calms down. He’s on his back, Kurt tucked into his side, his head on his shoulder and his arm curled protectively over his bump.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” Kurt interrupts, “You don’t need to be sorry. You don’t need to apologise to me.”

* * *

It’s much nicer sitting in the waiting room with Kurt, than it is without him. Every time he feels nervous, he can squeeze his hand, or look at the expression on his face.

Kurt looks so excited. For someone who only found out yesterday that his fiancé is pregnant at eighteen, he looks like the happiest man on the planet. He’s sitting at the edge of his seat, his leg bouncing, while watching all the other couples in the room.

“Oh my God, Blaine look!” Kurt says, gesturing at the new couple, who just entered the room. In the man’s hand is a baby carrier, and as they manoeuvre to sit in the chairs in front of them, he can clearly see the new-born asleep in the carrier. There’s a baby blue hand-knitted hat on his head, and he’s wearing a babygrow with little ducks on it.

“I can’t believe that in just five months, we’re going to have a baby just like that.”

“Yeah...” he replies, trying his hardest to sound enthusiastic.

“And look at his clothes! Oh, I can’t wait to start designing some baby clothes, maybe even learn how to knit.”

Lost as to how to respond, he’s saved by his name being called.

When he’s asked to lie on the couch and display his bump, Kurt looks like he is about to vibrate out of his skin.

“So, first I’m going to apply this gel to your stomach, and then we can take a look at how baby is doing.”

He flinches at how cold the gel is, and Kurt rubs his thumb over his hand where they’re clasped together.

After a few minutes waiting as she examines the sonogram, she turns the screen so they can see.

“Everything seems normal. Your baby is on track, I’d say due around July eighteenth. If you look here,” she points to the screen and Kurt gasps, “That’s your baby’s head. Here’s their nose, and mouth,” the baby moves their arm to cover its face, “Oh! Looks like they don’t want you to see their face.”

Hearing Kurt’s laugh, he turns to look at him and sees that he’s openly crying. He has the heart eyes he usually catches aimed at him, locked onto the screen. The mantra that has been circling around in his head returns, “Please be Kurt’s, please be Kurt’s, please be Kurt’s.”

“So, about your birth plan…”

* * *

By the end of his appointment, he’s so mentally exhausted, that all he wants to do is curl up on his bed, and sleep. Kurt however seems to have other ideas.

“We need to discuss what we’re going to do.” He’s sitting on the sofa, eyes not leaving the sonogram he’s cradling in his hands.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve got to work out where we’re going to put the nursery, or if we’re going to move out. Also, what’s going to happen with college, and how we’re going to afford everything. I mean, we’ve only got five months. I’ve only got my job at the spotlight diner, and with college I can’t work for Vogue as much-”

“Kurt,” he cuts off his rambling, “Calm down. Look, I’ve got some money saved up that’s kept me from needing to get a job, and I know for a fact that Mom still saves up the money that would have gone towards tuition for Dalton, even thought I _refused_ to take it. We’re going to have enough support to help us until we can support ourselves.”

He sits on the sofa next to Kurt, and their hands entwine.

“What about the nursery?”

“There’s barely enough space for all of us living here, let alone a baby. We’ll have to start apartment hunting. Santana will be happy, seeing as she doesn’t actually have a bed currently.”

“Okay, we have a plan,” Kurt’s hands settle on his bump, and he tries not to flinch at the action, “You do realise we’re going to have to tell Rachel and Santana.”

“What? Before your Dad?”

“We’ll tell our parents next, but I honestly don’t think I’m going to be able to keep this to myself. Anyway, we’ll be looking for apartments soon, and you’re going to start getting bigger. They’ll get suspicious.”

More people knowing is exactly what he doesn’t want, but perhaps getting over with the inevitable will be less painful. He sure hopes so.

“Okay…”

* * *

Rachel and Santana return while he’s taking a nap. Forgoing dressing in the oversized clothes he’d been relying on, he moves to the kitchen still dressed in a vest and boxers. They’re going to find out soon anyway, what’s the point in hiding his bump?

“Blaine!” Rachel calls as he walks over to them all, “Try this sauce. Do you think it needs more garlic?”

He can see Santana not so secretly looking at him as he takes the wooden spoon.

“Eugh! Sorry, there’s way too much in here Rachel.”

“What?” She says, disappointed.

“Okay Rachel,” Kurt says, “maybe we should leave me to the cooking. I’ll finish up.” He gently nudges her out of the way, gathering ingredients to make another sauce.

“What’s with the attire today Blaine?” Santana says, eyeing him with interest.

“I’m tired and didn’t feel like changing. Why?”

“I just haven’t seen you dressed in anything casual since around the time that you first moved in. Would there happen to be a reason for the change?”

Kurt catches his eye. He can tell that he desperately wants to tell them, so he decides to give in, and gives him permission with a small nod of his head.

“We have something we need to tell you guys,” he says. Santana’s eyes move from where they had been curiously eyeing him, to look at Kurt.

“Don’t tell me,” Rachel says excitedly, “You’ve chosen a date for the wedding?”

“No,” Kurt drawls, “But a good guess.” Moving away from the stove, he disappears into the bedroom, returning with the sonogram in his hand. “So, Blaine had a doctor’s appointment today… and we came home with this.”

He places the sonogram on the table in front of Santana and Rachel. For a moment there is silence as they process what they are looking at, before Rachel lets out a loud gasp.

“Oh my God… Oh my God!” She shrieks.

Santana looks quickly between the two of them, “Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

“Oh Blaine,” Rachel jumps out of her chair, arms outstretched reaching for his bump. He flinches away from her, turning away to avoid her searching hands.

Rachel stops in place, a surprised expression on her face.

“Sorry… I-I just, don’t really like people touching it,” he says embarrassed.

There’s a short, awkward silence, before Rachel regroups herself and replies, “Congratulations both of you. You’re going to be amazing Dad’s.”

“Does this mean I’m gonna get my own room?”

“Yes Santana, we will be moving out,” Kurt replies.

“Great! I’m so happy for you guys.”

The three of them are caught in group hug, squealing in the middle of the kitchen, as he takes over from Kurt in cooking the dinner.

“So how far along are you then Blaine?” Santana says once the squealing dies down, yet still caught in the hug.

“Fourteen weeks.” Their heads snap to him.

“Really? That’s a long time to keep the news to yourself,” Rachel says.

“But think about it,” Kurt interjects, saving him from further scrutiny, “It’s less time until the baby’s here!”

_Great_ he thinks, _just what I wanted_.

* * *

Exhaustion has become his most frequent feeling. Not just physically, like his aching joints, but also mentally. With everyone in the loft knowing about his pregnancy, they have been flocking around him like mother hens.

Santana, who usually treats him with an air indifference, now asks him daily how he’s feeling, if he needs anything, if he needs any help with the new apartment they are looking for. He supposes she’s being nice, and she is the least overbearing of the three, but this completely alien version of Santana confuses him, especially with his recent pregnancy brain.

Kurt cannot stop touching him. A comforting hand on his back as he passes him in the kitchen, pressed into his side as they sit on the sofa, and hands resting on his bump as they lie in bed. He’s also been going crazy thinking up designs for the nursery, baby clothes, and paternity clothes. Kurt must think he is energy deficient (although that’s not far from the truth), because he now spends most of his time pretending to sleep, in order to avoid the onslaught of information sent his way as Kurt asks for an opinion on all of his ideas.

Rachel is by far the worst. After reading two online articles about pregnancy, she is now a self-proclaimed expert. She has become so obnoxious, even Kurt and Santana roll their eyes when she offers up her newest advice. She finally tones it down slightly after he snaps at her, when she asks about his bowel movements during dinner.

After a week of asking, Kurt finally manages to get him to call his parents. He’s surprised at how well the news goes down; in fact, his Mom is positively excited (which he suspects is why she now calls him twice a day). She immediately demands that he takes the money she had been saving for him, as well as any subsequent payments she would have saved, in the future. His Dad, to his surprise, offered to give his help for anything apartment related when they move out.

The phone call, to him, is very confusing. His parents are on the slightly more conservative side, so it is hard for him to believe how accepting they are about their eighteen-year-old, engaged, gay son, expecting a baby.

Now however, he’s facing the step he’s been least looking forward to: Telling Kurt’s father. Burt is fiercely protective over Kurt, and he dreads him disapproving. He is however counting his blessings that Kurt isn’t the one who is pregnant.

As the laptop is being set up for their Skype call, Kurt must sense his nerves.

“You know you don’t have to be worried right? We _are_ engaged, this was going to happen sooner or later. It just happens that it was sooner.”

“I know, I know,” he says, “I just can’t help it.”

The appearance of Burt and Carole on their computer screen, makes Kurt’s face light up. He even manages a genuine smile at the sight of them.

“Have I done this right? Where’s– Oh there you are, hi Son.”

“Hi Dad,” Kurt replies.

“So, what’s so important that we need to have a scheduled skype date?”

Kurt glances at him, unable to hide his grin, before he says, “Blaine and I have some big news.”

“Big news? Gee kid, you can’t keep springing this on us,” he and Carole share a laugh, “First you’re engaged, now what?”

“Well,” Kurt holds his hand, “Blaine’s pregnant!”

Carole gasps, “Really? That’s amazing guys!”

Burt stays silent, a shocked look on his face. Blaine’s nerves increase tenfold, this was exactly what he’d been dreading.

“Dad?” Kurt asks, obviously nervous about his reaction too.

“Sorry kid, I just… Wow,” he wipes at his eyes, and Blaine only just realises he’d been crying, “That’s great. I can’t believe… I’m going to be a Grandpa!”

Conversation flows easily between Kurt and his parents, but he only catches small snippets of what they are saying, including their financial situation, college, and being very young to have a baby. He only really adds to the conversation when he’s being asked a question directly, something he’s more than happy to do. He does however catch what Burt says before they sign off:

“Make sure to tell me when you’re viewing apartments, I’ll fly out to help you. I want only the best for my grandchild.”

The claustrophobic pressure he’d been feeling increases. Everything is changing. Everyone’s going to find out, people are due to move to New York, people will be visiting, and they are more interested in him than ever. Just at a time when he wishes to fade into the background.

He’d never felt quite so much like a fish out of water.


	4. Chapter 4

“Guess who?!”

The sing-song voice disrupts the quick nap he’d taken in one of the rare moments he’s alone in the loft. Through bleary eyes, he sees a small group of indistinguishable people entering the apartment, all carrying various shopping bags.

Rubbing his eyes, he notices that the group is none other than Mercedes, Sam, and Tina, along with Kurt, who obviously let them in. He can’t help but grin at the sight of them.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We live here now,” Sam states, offering no further explanation.

For a moment, he thinks they’re moving into the loft. Images of three extra people moving into their already overcrowded apartment appear in his mind, before he realises how absurd that is.

“Um, what?” He finally says.

Fortunately, Mercedes saves the day. “Well I heard about how everyone was planning on moving to New York in the new year, so I had a talk with my producer, said I wanted to go for a ‘East Coast Harlem, bebop, uptown kind of vibe,’ and they bought it. They hooked me up with an apartment, and I coerced Sam and Tina here to be my roommates.”

“Yeah, and Sam’s here because he’s been signed by a modelling agency, and I’m starting NYU on mid-year entry,” Tina says. “We needed some help finding good places to shop, so we figured we’d call Kurt.”

“And you know I’m more than happy to help when it comes to shopping,” Kurt says, moving towards the sofa where he’s still sitting, placing a kiss on his forehead.

As his new houseguests arrange their shopping bags on the kitchen table, he makes his hair more presentable from where it had become rumpled from his nap.

Walking over to the kitchen, he can see that the majority of the bags come from the Baby Gap, Babies R Us, and other baby-related stores. He hadn’t yet bought anything for the baby, wanting to distance himself from the little person growing inside of him. The sight of the bags on the table are almost overwhelming, but he snaps out of it at Tina’s gasp.

“Blaine, look at you!” She cries, eyes already wet with tears, and pointed towards his bump.

He was now seventeen weeks along, and his bump has become much more pronounced. Strangers on the street can now tell he’s pregnant, as evidenced by the number of people who stop to congratulate him and ask oddly personal questions about his pregnancy. He’d had to tell NYADA in order to swap around his dance and stage combat classes for another year, and arrange his paternity leave, meaning now the whole school knows. The rumour mill is definitely the most efficient part of the school.

“I know, I’m starting to balloon.”

“Bro, this is so weird. You’re like, growing a _person_ ,” Sam says.

“And he looks beautiful while doing it,” Kurt says, sweeping over to rest his hands on his bump. “By the way, these three kind of coaxed me into buying some things for the baby. I hope you don’t mind.”

In truth, he did mind. He didn’t like the idea of the baby already having possessions when it’s not even here yet. The more things they buy, the more it feels like his attacker is slowly creeping into his home, and his life.

However, he lies. “Of course that’s okay.”

* * *

Blaine feels like his brain is going to explode. They are fully in the midst of moving, and it’s all anyone can talk about.

Kurt had made a list of fourteen apartments to view (an excessive amount if you asked him), prompting Burt and Carole’s arrival a few days ago. They had been going with Kurt to see if they are up to shape, and will meet all of their needs, Blaine getting out of it by claiming to be tired. The apartment they found is perfect. Kurt loves it, and is already theorising where their furniture will go. It’s much larger than he had expected it to be, attributed to Burt’s eye for a good deal (and secret contribution to their budget). There is even a spare room, which Kurt inconspicuously hinted is space for another child in the future.

Their bedroom is overflowing with flat-packed furniture ready to be moved to the new apartment when the lease is signed, as well as boxes of clothes, keepsakes, and newly acquired baby things. Some of these boxes have started making their way into the living room, and even a few in the kitchen, prompting many an argument with Rachel. Santana, however, doesn’t seem to care since once they move out, she gets a room and only one roommate.

The loft is also, always overflowing with people. Unless they’re apartment hunting, or sleeping in their hotel room, Burt and Carole are always floating around. They love to constantly ask him questions about their Grandchild: what they’re going to name them, what the theme of nursery is going to be, whether he thinks it’s a boy or girl.

Rachel has instituted a weekly pot-luck dinner, guaranteeing that all their friends will be over at the same time, all extremely interested in the baby. His bump has grown to the point that now, he gets the feeling that it is all people see when they look at him. No longer does he get questions about how he’s feeling, now it’s all about the baby. Except Kurt of course. He’s been wonderful from the start, especially considering that he’s the one who is always there, helping him when he’s down.

It’s during one of these dinners, while Burt and Carole are still there, when he feels it. It’s a light fluttering movement, signalling that the baby is moving. It’s unsettling. So far, the only evidence he has of the baby is his bump, and a sonogram. Feeling it inside of him is a reminder that he is much closer to the end of his pregnancy than he was telling himself. In fact, now he’s over halfway.

Kurt, who had been unconsciously glancing at him with heart eyes, notices the change in his demeanour.

Taking his hand across the table, he says, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

For a second, he considers saying nothing, but the guilt he would probably feel for it, he decides, is not worth it.

“The baby’s moving,” he says, forcing a smile.

“Really!” Kurt shouts, jumping out of his chair and moving around to his side of the table.

Conversation around the table has paused, and he notices that everyone’s heads have snapped towards them at Kurt’s shout.

Kurt's hands find their way to his bump, and he’s surprised to find that he does not mind too much.

“It’s only a fluttery feeling, I'm afraid you’re not going to be able to feel them kicking.”

Even though Kurt can’t feel anything, he doesn’t seem to be disappointed at all.

“The baby’s moving?” Somebody asks, but he’s not paying attention to who. He’s slowly becoming aware that he’s currently the centre of attention, and it’s very uncomfortable.

He gives a small nod, he hopes in the direction of the person who asked, and the room erupts into celebratory chatter. Absently, he hears Santana say she’s going to open a bottle of champagne she’s got stored, and when he glances up, he notices that Rachel, Tina, and Burt are openly crying.

Surely this is an overreaction? In the end, he grins and bears it for the rest of the evening. He just hopes this doesn’t happen again when they find out what they’re having, next week, at their scan.

* * *

His classes are now much harder. Even though he is now exempt from classes with physical activity, ordinary classes are just as exhausting. The general hustle and bustle in the corridors and in classes, due to the sheer amount of people, keeps him on edge throughout the day. Additionally, his classes are starting to become more difficult, and especially with his pregnancy brain, he’s finding it more and more difficult to focus.

Walking into what he thought was an empty practice room, he sees a man in the middle of packing up his things. He can only see him from the back, but the sandy coloured hair and well-muscled physique, is very familiar. Too familiar.

Unable to move from where he’s standing, he feels his heart trying to beat out of his chest. A wave of nausea passes over him, unlike the kind he’d grown accustomed to with his morning sickness, and he feels himself panic sweat. Struggling to catch his breath, his vision goes blurry. The other man in the room has noticed his presence, moving towards him when he starts to wobble from dizziness.

There is a voice telling him to breathe, and hands guiding him towards a chair. Slumped in the chair, it’s several minutes before he starts to feel calm again.

“It’s okay, you’re having a panic attack. Just remember to breathe…”

The voice is not familiar like he’d expected. It’s not low and gravelly like he remembers, but smooth and calming. Daring to look up, he notices the man hasn’t got grey eyes, and his bone structure is not as angular.

The rush of relief that flows through him is so good, he could cry.

“Sorry,” he breaths.

“It’s no issue. Are you feeling better now?” The man asks.

“Yeah… Yeah, I'm okay.”

“Do you need me to bring you to the nurse? It’s just, I’ve noticed your condition, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

He can feel tears threatening to fall, but he’s trying his best to hold them in.

“No, I’m fine,” he says.

The man in front of him looks unconvinced, and contemplates him for a second.

“Josh,” he says, holding out his hand.

“What?”

“My name.”

“Blaine,” he replies, shaking Josh's hand.

“Would you let me buy you lunch? I don’t feel comfortable leaving you until you’re completely fine.”

He reluctantly agrees, and finds himself in the campus café. It’s quiet, with only two other tables occupied. Josh has bought him a hot chocolate, which he is using to hide his shaking hands.

“Can I ask you something?” Josh asks.

“Of course.”

“Was your panic attack because of me?”

He’s giving him an encouraging look, but he can’t help feel bad admitting it to him.

“Yes. It’s just… you reminded me of somebody I’d rather not see…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

His answer is abrupt, and Josh still looks concerned.

“Look… I don’t want to get into your business, but having a panic attack at the mere sight of a person, means they must have done something pretty bad. And considering your condition, it’s not good for you to keep having them. Have you talked to anyone about this?”

He’s dangerously close to admitting his secret to him. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but yet again, he fails to say it.

“I haven’t felt comfortable enough to tell anyone. In fact, you know the more than anyone else.”

“I respect that,” Josh clasps his hands together, and contemplates him. “Okay, here’s an idea. I’m giving you my phone number,” he takes a pen and scrap piece of paper out of his bag, writing down his number, “When you feel comfortable enough to talk about it, or need any help like today, you call me. Okay?”

He takes the piece of paper, and stares at it. He has to admit, it feels good to talk to somebody, even if he hasn’t actually revealed much, or anything.

“Okay,” he says, “Thank you. This really helped.”

It’s as he’s leaving, it hits him. Even though his attacker isn’t Josh, they’re still at NYADA. They’re still a student here, and he could bump into them any second. And if they see him, what would they do when they see he’s pregnant? Or, more importantly, would he do?

It’s a good job he’s got Josh’s number.


	5. Chapter 5

He hasn’t been able to get the thought out of his head. He’s been absentminded all week, but nobody has noticed because they’ve signed the lease on the apartment, and are in the middle of moving their things over. The benefit of this however, is that everyone is now always at the other apartment, giving him some time to wallow in his self-pity.

He doesn’t know why, he’s been trying to distance himself from the baby, but he’d been adamant about the theme for the nursery. He’d always imagined that when he had children, the nursery of his first child would be ‘Winnie The Pooh’ themed. He doesn’t know whether he’s growing protective of the baby now he’s hyper aware of his proximity to his attacker, or if it just felt too wrong to go against something he’d imagined for so long, but he’d found himself insisting that that be the theme. Kurt had been very open to his wish, seeing as he’d said yes to all of Kurt’s ideas up to that point.

The last time he went to the apartment, the walls had been painted a pale yellow, and Kurt and Sam were in the middle of putting up ‘Winnie The Pooh’ wall art. Burt had been assembling the crib, with the help of Carole, while Rachel and Santana pretended to be busy in what will be the kitchen, but were actually both having a glass of wine, discussing how they will change his and Kurt’s bedroom in the loft when they move out.

He’d been living inside his own mind so much, that when his second scan comes around, it feels like it came out of nowhere. Kurt, however, seems to have been counting down the days.

“Blaine?” The call of his name snaps him out his thoughts.

“Sorry, I was in my own world there,” he says, “What did you say?”

“I was asking if you were still sure you wanted to find out the baby’s sex,” Kurt replies.

They’d discussed this before, and he knew Kurt wanted to find out, so naturally he went along with it.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”

The OB/GYN turns the screen so that they can see, and moves the ultrasound stick into position.

“So here we are,” she says, “If you look here, you’ll be able to see that your baby is… a girl!”

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt breathes, “We’re gonna have a daughter!”

The last week has really put everything into perspective for him. He knows that he could bump into his attacker any day now, and thus have his secret spilled. Kurt could find out, and possibly work out that the baby might not be his. He’s keeping every finger crossed that it never happens, for he isn’t sure they will be able to get through it together, because of how much he’s kept secret.

“Kurt,” he says, his voice croaky and silently crying along with Kurt, “I want you to remember this moment. Remember this feeling, and that I love you more than anything.”

Kurt presses a light kiss to his lips, before he replies, “I love you too, and I’m never going to forget any of this.”

Lying bed that night, with an unusually empty apartment, he stares at the ceiling unable to fall asleep. The baby keeps moving around, preventing him from getting some well needed rest, almost as though she knows the day has been all about her.

It’s after around an hour of these movements, that he feels it. A kick, much harder than any previous movements he’d felt. Placing a hand to the area on his bump he’d felt it, she kicks again, and he feels a tiny movement against his hand.

“Kurt,” he whispers, “Kurt wake up.”

“Huh… what?” He mumbles, words muffled by the duvet.

Wordlessly, he takes Kurt’s hand, and moves it to the spot on his bump.

“What’re you doing? What’s wro-” his eyes go wide as another tiny kick is felt against his hand. “Blaine,” he breathes, “Is that the first time she’s kicked?”

“Yeah,” he chokes out.

“Wow…” He moves so that he can talk to the bump, “You’re moving around a lot in there, little girl,” he coos.

“Do you reckon she’s practicing her jetés? Is she going to be a ballerina?”

“Maybe. Maybe she’s going to be a soccer player.”

They sit in silence for a while, basking in the happiness of the new development, and he feels lighter. Maybe he’s coming around? He hopes so.

* * *

Moving house at twenty-five weeks pregnant, was not a good idea. He’s been banned from carrying anything heavier than his bag of toiletries, while watching all of their friends haul heavy boxes up and down the stairs.

All he wants to do is lie down on his bed in the dark, and will away his rapidly growing headache. Unfortunately, their bed hasn’t been made up yet. Their newly ordered mattress had only arrived a couple of days ago, and was therefore currently hidden amongst all their other belongings.

Instead, he brews a pot of coffee for everybody, hoping it will make him feel less useless.

“Hey.”

He jumps, not expecting the voice, and almost spilling the coffee.

“Sorry,” it’s Sam, “How’re you holding up?”

“It’s a bit overwhelming, but it’ll be better when we have our own apartment. It was taking so long, I was starting to have visions of moving house while in labour,” he laughs.

He pours Sam a cup, before making himself tea.

“By the way, I wanted to apologise for not being around much recently,” says Sam, “It’s just that you and Kurt have had so much going on recently, and I’ve been settling into the city and my new job. I’ve not been a great best friend.”

“Hey, relationships are a two-way street,” there's a pause before they both laugh, “Sorry. I think pregnancy is making me cheesier than usual.”

“So, are we okay now?”

“Sam, we were never _not_ okay.”

After offering around the coffee to everyone helping out, he returns to the kitchen to see Sam still there.

“Not like you to skip out on helping,” he says.

“Oh, come on. Out of all of them I’ve helped the most,” Sam laughs, “Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“Kurt mentioned you waited a long time to tell him you were pregnant, and you’ve been quite distant throughout,” he pauses, like he’s waiting for a reply, but Blaine doesn’t give one. “I was just wondering if you were feeling okay… You know, my mom had postpartum depression after she had Stevie and Stacey…”

“No, I didn’t know that,” he thinks for a moment how to respond. “I’ve just been… scared.”

“About what?”

“Just… _everything_ ,” he breathes, “I’m not… depressed. Everything’s just happening so quickly, and it’s hard to keep up.”

“I know man. Like one minute we were performing at nationals and graduating high school, and the next we were in New York and you were engaged and three months pregnant.”

“Sam, I was engaged before we graduated.”

“I know, but you get my point, right? Everyone’s growing up so fast.”

“Look, you don’t need to worry. I’m working on it… I’ll get over this.”

“Will you though?” Sam hesitates, forcing him to make eye contact with him, “You can’t deal with this on your own.”

Sam’s hit the nail on the head. He’s been dealing with this alone so far, but how long will he last?

* * *

Even though they’ve permanently moved into the new apartment, it wasn’t completely finished yet. There are a few things they haven’t had time to get yet, and with life returning to normal, and Burt and Carole back in Lima, it’s taking a long time to finish. Nothing so far has beaten the string of expletives that echoed from the bathroom, when Kurt slipped in the shower bath combo, as they hadn’t bought a non-slip mat yet. He’d promptly been banned from taking a shower, by a red-faced Kurt, until he’d been to ‘Bed Bath & Beyond’ to buy one.

The room that is the furthest from completion is the nursery. The walls have been painted, and there’s random pieces of furniture that have been built lying around, waiting until the room is properly arranged. There are boxes that contain various baby products and gifts from friends piled in one corner, waiting to be placed in the baby’s closet or a cupboard somewhere.

As his due date creeps closer and closer, he and Kurt start desperately trying to find a few days that they both have minimal things they need to do, so they can get down to business and get somewhere close to finishing it. That time, however, won’t occur until he’s twenty-nine weeks along, and in the four weeks leading up to it, he keeps finding Kurt just standing in the nursery, taking it all in, too many times to count.

Now he’s in his third trimester, Kurt has become extremely broody. Over the past couple of weeks, his bump has had a significant growth spurt, and he keeps catching Kurt sighing contentedly when he sees it. Most recently though, they’ve been brainstorming names.

“We always said we’d name our children Hepburn and Tracey,” Kurt says, scrolling on his laptop at the kitchen table.

“I’ll be honest,” he replies, “I thought we were joking. Like, maybe if we were having a celebrity child, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I suppose you’re right. I know it was only just under two years ago, but I think we’re much more mature now.” After a few minutes of scrolling, Kurt starts rattling off ideas again.

“What about Ophelia?”

“Bit pretentious isn’t it?”

“No, it’s dignified and beautiful… What about Viola, Juliet, Cordelia…”

“Oh my God, Kurt, what website are you looking at?” He laughs, turning the screen so he can see, “Women in Shakespeare's works? Seriously?”

“What?! I want my daughter to have a name as wonderful as she is. What’s so wrong about that?”

“Nothing, it’s just a bit… I don’t know, excessive. She can still have a beautiful name, but maybe just tone it down a little.”

“ _Okay_ …” Kurt drawls, “Here we are, Cleopatra, Hippolyta, _Gertrude_ -”

“Okay,” Blaine laughs, cutting him off, “You’re being annoying on purpose now.”

“Fine, some more _normal_ Shakespeare names…” Kurt says, scanning the page, “Rosaline? Helena?”

“They’re nice. Rosaline from ‘Romeo and Juliet’, and Helena from ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream’?”

“Yeah, what do you think?”

“Rosaline isn’t that significant of a character. What did she do, reject a boy’s advances? But Helena? Okay hear me out… The girl who breaks the gender roles of her time by becoming the pursuer rather than the pursued, and lives by the belief that childhood friendships should be stronger than the fickle love of men? Perfect… it’s also the name of a ‘Harry Potter’ character…”

“Okay, you had me sold until the end,” Kurt laughs.

“Oh, come on, they’re only in one scene. No one would know.”

“How do you know so much about Shakespeare anyway?”

“Kurt, have you seen Dalton Academy? What more did you expect?”

“Hmm.” Kurt stares at the laptop screen, and taps his fingers on the keyboard, thinking, before suddenly closing it. He jumps up from the chair, and goes to hug him.

“I like it,” he whispers in his ear.

It’s hard to suppress the giddy smile on his face, and he finds it strange that even though the conversation was mainly about the baby, he didn’t mind at all. Maybe he really is coming around.

Kurt’s phone decides that now is the perfect time to start ringing.

“Rachel, slow down, I can’t understand what you’re saying… What?!... Daniel?... Oh my God, that’s horrible.”

Kurt’s pacing around the kitchen, biting on his knuckles like he does when he’s nervous.

“What is it?” He asks when the call ends.

“Someone in our dance class is sending a warning out to everyone to watch out at campus parties… last night, someone tried to sexually assault them.”

So much for things getting better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the delay for this chapter. My family dog had to be put down a few weeks ago, which killed my motivation to write :(  
> I should be back to regularly updating now, I hope you enjoy the chapter

“So what? This guy just grabbed him in the middle of a party?”

Everyone had rushed over to Rachel and Santana’s once they got the news. Now, they were all clutching various hot drinks, as they perch on any furniture they can find.

“Sounds like it,” Rachel says, uncharacteristically solemn, “He says his drink was spiked. Luckily, his friend was with him, and helped when they saw him struggling to get away.”

“Well, didn’t they at least see what the low-life scum looked like?” Santana fumes.

“Apparently, he was wearing a hoodie so that you couldn’t see his face. The worst part is that when he reported it, they told him that they’d had a lot of similar reports: spiked drinks, blackout drunks, and even one that somehow got visually impaired.”

“Great,” Santana says, starting to pace around the room, “So now NYADA has a serial rapist!”

“Okay Santana, let’s not announce it to the entire apartment block,” Kurt urges, “Anyway, we don’t know if it’s always the same person. At the end of the day, what we need to worry about is keeping ourselves and our friends safe, and avoiding any parties for a while.”

“Right,” Rachel says, jumping up from the sofa and addressing everyone, “Everyone take out your phones. If you know anyone that could possibly attend a party that has lots of NYADA students, message them. Tell them that there’s someone out assaulting people, and to no go to parties for a while.”

In an instant, everyone takes out their phones and starts typing, even those he didn’t think knew anyone from NYADA.

There’s an unsettling mixture of emotions swirling in his stomach. First, the knowledge that there’s someone on campus assaulting people, and that it could be the same person that assaulted him, causes him to feel sharp spikes of terror. Secondly, knowing how much of an effect one person has had by spreading awareness of their almost assault, causes him to feel an insurmountable amount of guilt. If only he wasn’t so much of a coward, and had reported his assault. How many others could he have saved from suffering the same fate? Especially considering that he seems to be the only one who remembers what their attacker looks like.

Feeling the start of a panic attack coming, he manages to find his way to the bathroom, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“ _Josh_ …”

* * *

Over the past week, NYADA had been abuzz with the news of Daniel’s almost assault. There has been a major uprising of students who’ve been protesting against sexual assault on campus, and demanding for more support and action from the administration.

Josh has been a real help. His anxiety levels have been through the roof lately, what with the constant reminders of his assault. Whenever it gets too much, he can always call him. Recently, they’ve been meeting up a lot more, and he can truly say that Josh is the first real friend he’s made in New York.

After enduring three weeks, it became too much. He’s decided to leave school for paternity slightly early, and is now counting down the days until his due date. Only eight weeks to go.

In those three weeks, he and Kurt have managed to finish the nursery. The closet is now filled with tiny clothes, a good number of them designed and made by Kurt himself. It’s been amazing watching Kurt when inspiration strikes, seeing the ideas come to life on the page as he draws, and again when they’re made into outfits that wouldn’t look out of place in a boutique.

The baby has really lifted everyone’s spirits, boosted Kurt’s creativity, and brought happiness to Burt and Carole after such a big loss. Everybody’s reaction to his pregnancy has been so overwhelming, but he can’t complain. He knows that they’re clinging onto something that can unify them with happiness after the loss of Finn, and that unfortunately means him putting up with overinvested friends and family members.

There’s a knock at the door, and Kurt’s already opened it before he’s had time to haul himself off of the sofa. From down the hall he hears Kurt greeting guests, before he hears the sound of many feet making their way to the living area.

“Let’s see how much the bump has grown,” sings the voice of Tina from down the hall.

Looking up, he sees Sam and Tina entering the room, closely followed by Kurt. Tina’s hands are outstretched towards him, looking as though she’s already on the verge of crying.

“Oh my God, look at you. You look like you’re almost ready to pop!”

“Feel like it too,” he replies.

“I hope you don’t mind,” says Kurt, “I’d noticed you’d been feeling down recently, and thought a visit from your friends would cheer you up.”

A few weeks ago, he would have hated this. He didn’t want to see anyone, for fear of hearing more about the protests on campus, but since he’s left college, he’s noticed that it was his primary source of socialisation. In truth, he’d been lonely lately.

“And we thought,” Sam adds, “That some of your favourite baked goods would cheer you up too… Cronuts!”

“Aww, thank you guys,” he says, taking the box. He’s started to feel bad for all the times he’s been waking Kurt up in the night to get something to satisfy his cravings. Cronuts are his newest craving, and perhaps this unhealthily large box of them will give Kurt some more undisturbed night’s sleep.

After a lengthy discussion about what everyone has been up to since they’d last seen each other, the conversation inevitably returned to the baby.

“Have you thought about what the baby will look like?” Asks Sam after they’d given a tour of the newly finished nursery, “Because any kid with both of your genes is guaranteed to just be completely adorable.”

“Well personally, I’ve been hoping she’ll look just like Blaine,” Kurt says, “Because despite how much he tries to hide them underneath all that hair gel he usually wears, I love his curls.”

“They are pretty adorable, aren’t they?” Tina says, ruffling his hair. He’d reached a point where he could no longer stand to gel his hair, opting for a more comfortable overall attire.

“While I don’t doubt that would be very cute,” Sam says, “Surely a baby that looks just like Kurt would look like some sort of angel, like a… what do you call them? A cherub.”

“Urgh, my Dad keeps going on about that. He says it comes from my Mom, even though personally I can’t see it.”

“Oh, I can,” laughs Tina, “But I’m sure your Dad will be happy either way. It’s his first grandchild!”

He’d never really thought about what the baby might look like. In his efforts to put it out of his mind, he’d almost forgotten that the baby is going to be a real person.

What if when he sees the baby for the first time, he can just tell she isn’t Kurt’s? Or worse, what if he can’t? Will he have to live with the unknowing his whole life? As horrible as that sounds, he doesn’t know how he would cope if he did know, and Kurt wasn’t the father.

He’s already feeling enough guilt from not telling Kurt about his assault, and the possibility of the baby not being his. He doesn’t think a lifetime racked with guilt will be good for their relationship… or his mental health. Maybe it would be better if he found out the truth.

The problem is, he doesn’t know anything about Kurt that could help him work out if he’s the father, and getting a paternity test would require explaining the situation to him. If there’s no doubting that Kurt’s the father, he’d rather he never finds out there was a possibility that he wasn’t, no matter how much guilt he feels.

The only way to tell who the father is, aside from a paternity test, is through genetics. Hair and eye colour will be unreliable; who knows what recessive genes they both carry. The baby could come out a redhead, and that wouldn’t help either way. The best way to tell will be via blood type, but how will he find out Kurt’s?

It takes a couple of days, but through a stroke of luck, he manages to steer the conversation towards one where it isn’t totally weird to bring it up.

“What’s got you staring into space?” Kurt asks, placing their teas in front of him on the coffee table.

“Thinking about our conversation with Sam and Tina the other day. About what the baby will look like.”

“Oh, so you mean my favourite subject?” Kurt laughs.

“Yeah. I was just thinking, because my Dad has blond hair, she could have blonde hair too.”

“Well, despite that fact that nowadays it’s hard to tell, my Dad’s hair is brown. My Mom’s was too, so it’s unlikely. And considering that she’ll probably get your hazel eyes, maybe my wish will come true, and she’ll look just like you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. But seriously, I don’t really know enough to get a clear picture of what she’ll be like. Like… do you know your blood type?”

He must admit, it wasn’t the smoothest transition he could have made, and may have come across a bit weird, but Kurt doesn’t say anything. He’s probably just glad that he’s showing more interest in the baby. He’s seen the concerned looks that Kurt’s been giving him throughout his pregnancy.

“Oh, just generic type-O… It’s nice to see you excited about the baby,” Kurt says gently, his hand reaching out to stroke through his hair.

“Yeah… I know,” he replies, distracted.

Kurt’s type-O, he’s type-B. Thinking back to his 8th grade biology class, he tries to work out the logistics.

“Sorry, bathroom break. Baby’s pressing on my bladder again.”

It takes a couple minutes of Googling in bathroom, and some consulting of a Punnett square, but he eventually works it out. No matter what, the baby cannot get type-A or type-AB blood. Unfortunately, even if the baby doesn’t have that as her blood type, it won’t be a guarantee that the baby is Kurt’s.

So, in short, he’ll only be able to reach closure if the baby is his rapist’s.

He should give Josh another call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you don't mind that it got a bit nerdy at the end :)


	7. Chapter 7

“How’s it been since you left college?”

“Lonely… I pretty much just sit around all day waiting for Kurt, but it feels so much better without all the added stress.”

Josh, seated across the table from him in the small coffee shop around the corner from his apartment, gives him a sympathetic look. Half an hour ago, he’d received a message asking if he wanted to get coffee, which is unusual because it’s usually him that asks to meet.

Both taking sips of their respective coffee and hot chocolate, they fall into a comfortable silence. He knows he uses Josh to escape from his worries and stresses, but he’d never considered that Josh may need him in a similar way. The thought makes him get a warm feeling in his chest.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asks.

Josh looks up surprised, “What do you mean?”

“You don’t usually spontaneously ask to meet up, and the way you’re acting makes me think there’s something you want to talk about.”

Josh ducks his head, embarrassed. When he looks up again, his cheeks are dark red.

“So… there’s this girl…”

“Oh, I see,” he laughs, and the blush on Josh’s cheeks gets even darker.

“Well, we share our acting class together. She’s amazing, extremely talented, and every time we’ve spoken, we’ve gotten along really well.”

“Okay…” he replies.

“It’s just, I’ve heard conflicting things about her personality, and she’s probably not interested anyway…”

“What’s her name?” He asks, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Rachel Berry,” it’s a wonder how he doesn’t spit out his drink in his surprise, “What? Do you know her?”

“Umm, yeah. We err, went to high school together. She’s my ex-roommate.”

“Oh my God, this is so embarrassing,” Josh says, speech muffled where his head has fallen into his hands.

It must be a testament to his newly learned acting skills, that he manages not to laugh at Josh’s misfortune.

“Okay, so what was it you were saying about her personality?”

Removing his head from his hands and trying to regain his composure, Josh replies, “Just, people say she’s got a bit of a prima donna complex, and doesn’t really have time for others.”

It takes a few seconds to work out what he’s going to say. The rumours are so true, yet so far from the truth at the same time, it’s hard to form a correct response.

“Okay…” He says, “While it’s true she’s quite a diva, especially this year, she hasn’t been quite so self-involved in a long time. She had a boyfriend in high school, Kurt’s stepbrother, and they were really serious in their last year. Like, they almost got married. Even though they broke up, they always assumed they would get back together at some point, but not that long ago, he passed away.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence that settles over them.

“So, I’m assuming that’s the reason she never seems very interested in taking anything further when we speak?”

“Yeah. Finn was like a leader to our Glee club. He was a really great guy.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss... Is that why everyone’s gone mad about the baby? Like it’s something to make everyone happy again?”

“I guess. I can’t wait for this to all be over, so that the focus is off of me,” he sighs.

“You do know that even after she’s been born, it won’t stop,” Josh says with a pointed look. “You might not be carrying her anymore, but they’re going to want to see her, talk about her, and you’re the one who’ll be looking after her. It’s not going to stop.”

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” he says, pushing away his drink.

Josh doesn’t say anything, the happy mood officially broken. There’s a knowing look in his eyes, concealing his concern, for he knows Josh has suspicions which are worryingly close to what is true. Nonetheless, he’s thankful for his quiet support. At least he knows that if the shit ever hits the fan, he’ll have Josh on his side.

* * *

The two weeks before his due date have been the most stressful yet. Burt and Carole had arrived, (much earlier than they needed to), and luckily, he’d managed to convince Kurt to not have them stay at the apartment. Not that it mattered, they only left the apartment to wash and sleep.

Simple tasks he normally wouldn’t think twice about, have become next to impossible. He’s currently got Kurt in agreement to never mention how he needs his help just to stand up from sitting on the sofa, or to get out of bed.

Despite admittedly needing help nowadays, he hasn’t appreciated the sheer amount of coddling he’s received recently. Every day, varying groups of friends come to see him, all insisting that he not lift a finger while they’re there. Their help would be really nice, if it didn’t come across so patronising.

“You know, Kurt was the most well-behaved baby,” Burt says, lounging in their armchair, their friends hooked on his every word, “We just had to make sure he had enough sleep, food, and attention, and he was a quiet as a mouse.”

“I’m sure that’s not true Dad,” Kurt says, arranging an assortment of snacks that they’ve invested in since their influx of visitors, “I was probably just like any other baby.”

“All babies are different Kurt,” Rachel says, “My Dads said I was a very vocal baby.”

“Which surprises exactly no one,” Santana adds.

“Okay, I admit I may exaggerate a bit,” Burt laughs, “But can you really blame me? It’s my first grandchild, and I’m excited to see what she’s like, if she’ll be like you, if she’ll be like your mother...”

It’s been like this, the whole two weeks. People theorising about the baby, talking about honouring Kurt’s mother and Finn. In normal circumstances, there would be questions about how young they are, how they’re going to cope. Instead, he’s surrounded by overly positive people, constantly talking about the very thing he’s been trying to clear from his mind for months: If the baby is going to look like Kurt.

Looking around, he notices that the group has gotten bigger since he last checked. Whereas before it was Burt, Carole, Rachel and Santana, other friends have somehow managed to sneak in without him noticing. Eyes scanning for Kurt, he watches as he lets in a few more of their friends without them ringing the bell. Bags, which suspiciously look like presents, are discretely exchanged before they make their way to where everyone is sitting, listening to Burt.

It’s now that he realises that almost everyone they’re friends with in New York is over, and when Josh arrives at the door with a present, who he’s sure has never met Kurt before, he’s pretty sure his suspicions are correct. This must be his surprise baby shower.

After about fifteen minutes without a new guest arriving, everyone starts exchanging expectant looks with each other, before the lights go out. Only the orange glow of candles can be seen as they emerge from the kitchen atop a cake carried by Carole, accompanied by cheering from their friends.

The party really wasn’t that bad. It turns out Sam and Tina suggested it, and Kurt arranged it with a Facebook post he was excluded from seeing, which explains how Josh knew. He spent the majority of the party opening presents and talking to Josh, introducing him to everyone. Introducing Josh to Rachel was very amusing to watch as the realisation that Rachel had no idea who he was set in. Josh’s embarrassed babbling was funny enough for Blaine to completely forget what had been making him feel uncomfortable earlier.

“Did you enjoy it?” Kurt asks as they’re both lying in bed that night. “I know you’ve been a bit overwhelmed with the number of visitors we’ve been having over recently.”

“It was really nice of you to arrange all that, and it was actually surprisingly fun.”

“Good,” Kurt says, snuggling further into the bed, “I see you’ve made a friend too. I’ve never seen him before...”

Kurt’s face is the picture of innocence, but Blaine has known him long enough to tell he’s digging for more information. He figures Kurt’s a little put out that he’s never mentioned Josh before, and he must tread carefully with his damage control.

“Oh yeah, I met Josh at NYADA. He’s a good friend,” he says nonchalantly, “He’s actually got a crush on Rachel, can you believe that?”

The words are like magic as the tensions visibly leaves Kurt’s body.

“Well, I hope you wished him good luck, because he’s gonna need it,” Kurt laughs.

At least one of his crisis’s have been averted.

* * *

Life carries on as normal. Their friends and family are as annoying as ever, and his own parents have made the trip to New York. It’s the day before his due date, and he’s having the worst day he’s had in a long time. After waking up to cramps in his lower back, he’s been feeling groggy all day. Kurt has refused to leave his side for the past two weeks, just in case, but he’s managed to convince him to tell people not to come over today, saying he doesn’t feel well.

While washing up the plates from lunch, he feels a particularly painful twinge, this time in his lower abdomen. Eyes watering, hands gripping the counter, he supresses a pained whimper. After only about thirty seconds, it’s all over. Now another feeling sets in. _Fear_. He’s had Braxton Hicks for about a month now, but this feel much more real. What he’s been dreading is finally happening, and he doesn’t feel prepared at all. Today’s the day he’s going to have to face the reality of his actions. Of _that man’s_ actions. Breath coming faster, he realises he’s on the way towards a panic attack. Without his usual coping mechanisms, he runs to the bathroom, locking himself inside.

“Blaine?” The voice of Kurt calls through the door, after what must be around an hour. Time doesn’t seem to exist in the bathroom, as one second blends into another. “Are you okay?”

With a shaky hand, he unlocks the door, and is met with the concerned face of Kurt. His eyes go wide as he takes in Blaine’s face, which he now realises must be pale and sweaty.

“Oh my God, what happened?!” He says, pressing his hand to his forehead, checking his temperature.

“I’m in labour,” he mutters, still short of breath.

“What! Really? Okay… okay, okay, okay,” he can see the cogs turning in Kurt’s mind, trying to work out what to do, “Why are you trembling? Are you ill? Oh my God, is something wrong?”

“I’m scared,” he sobs, falling into Kurt’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Kurt whispers, holding him tighter and rubbing a soothing hand on his back, “Everything’s going to be okay.”


	8. Chapter 8

“How’s the patient?” Carole teases, head appearing around the curtains which surround his hospital bed.

“Doing okay,” he says, “We’re just playing the waiting game.”

“Hey buddy,” Burt chuckles arriving next, his face beaming with happiness, “You gave us a bit of a fright there. Kurt sounded terrified on the phone.”

“Just a bit of a wobble at the beginning,” Kurt says, “ _Nerves_.”

He feels another contraction coming just as Burt and Carole settle themselves in the vacant chairs by his bed. Kurt, who has been amazing throughout the whole ordeal, holds his hand as he works through the pain, whispering encouragement into his ear. After around a minute, the pain subsides, and he slumps back on the bed already exhausted.

“That one looked quite painful, do you think you’re progressing?” Kurt worries, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a wet towel.

“It’s not all that different than the others, I wouldn’t worry.”

“I do not envy you Blaine, you’ve been such a trouper,” Carole says, “I remember with Finn, he came so fast, I ended up giving birth in the car not five minutes from our house. I don’t know how I’d have coped if I had to wait like you.”

It took a lot to not snap at Carole, that he doesn’t care how easy her labour was, but luckily Burt saves him.

“Isn’t it a bit busy in here to give birth? It doesn’t seem very private.”

“Dad, this is the labour ward. You get moved to a delivery suite to give birth,” Kurt sighs, rolling his eyes.

“So how far apart are your contractions Blaine?” Carole asks.

“Every five minutes or so,” he says.

“That’s quite close isn’t it?” Burt says, concerned, “Shouldn’t you be in the delivery suite? I’ll go get a nurse-”

“No Dad,” Kurt interrupts, “That’s, like, the bare minimum you need to come in to hospital if your waters haven’t broken. The nurses know what they’re doing.”

Before his annoyance can grow further, and make him say something he would later regret, another contraction comes, halting any conversations.

“That looks pretty serious, I’m getting the nurse,” Burt says, rising from his chair.

“Dad, no,” Kurt admonishes, barely looking away from where he’s gripping Blaine’s hand.

“Everyone. Shut. Up,” he strains.

“Why don’t you and Carole go down and see what they have in the shop,” Kurt says quickly, “I’m hungry, maybe you could pick me up some snacks.”

“But-”

“That’s a great idea Kurt,” Carole says, catching onto the situation, and tugging Burt out of his seat.

Thankfully, by the time his contraction is over, Burt and Carole have left.

“I’m sorry about them,” Kurt apologises, “They’re just excited.”

“I get it. As long as we don’t get the whole entourage.”

If he could go back in time, and stop himself from saying those words, he would in a heartbeat. Before they knew it, the whole gang had made their way there. The little space inside the area around his bed quickly became jam packed with friends. Everyone chattering away to each other, making far too much noise, and annoying his fellow patients on the ward.

“Honey, Cooper’s just texted me,” his Mom says, “He says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it for the birth, but his work’s allowing him to fly out next week to see the baby.”

“Great,” he mutters. Just what he needs right now: the mentioning of his annoying brother.

Out the corner of his eye, he sees Sam whispering to Tina, and tunes into what he’s saying, “How much longer is this going to take? I’ve got ‘My Strange Addiction’ episodes to catch up on.”

“Blaine,” Rachel butts in, eyes glued to her phone, “It’s says here that there are several positions you give birth in. See look,” she thrusts the phone in his face, “All fours, squatting, birthing pool… make sure you tell the midwives so you can find what’s best for you.”

“I’m sure they will know. Thank you, Rachel,” Kurt says, sensing his growing annoyance.

“I wonder if the baby will be big,” Burt says, “Kurt was quite small, but who knows. Is it harder to have a big baby?”

“Dad, we already know she’s average sized, and this really isn’t the best time,” Kurt replies, just as he gets another contraction.

All their friends silence, cringing as they see the pain on his face. This one feels much more painful, and out of spite for how annoying everyone’s been, he grips Rachel’s hand (who had decided herself that she should hold the one Kurt couldn’t) that much harder.

Once it’s passed, he asks Kurt to call the midwife, hoping they may also solve his current visitor issue.

“Woah, there’s a lot of you here,” the midwife says.

It’s a male midwife; all the others have been female, which he’d been grateful for. He was already worried about how he’d feel having people… _inspect_ him down there, and he’s not sure how he’d feel about having a man do it. He’d managed to convince himself that he was getting better since his attack, even being intimate with Kurt (although much less than usual), but having your fiancé touch you there, and having a total stranger touch you there, is very different.

“I’m afraid you can only have three visitors at one time. The rest of you can go in the waiting room,” he says.

After everyone leaves, and everything is quiet once again, only Kurt, Burt and his Mom are left. Explaining the situation, the midwife, who’s name turns out to be Fredrik, tells him he needs to examine him.

“Umm… do you think it could just be Kurt while you check. Sorry, I’m just not comfortable…”

“Don’t worry Blaine,” Kurt says, “ _Dad._ ”

Looking over, he can see Kurt give a pointed glare towards Burt, while to man looks reluctant to leave. His Mom, luckily, is able to remove him from the room, while Fredrik closes the curtains around his bed and puts on his gloves.

“Okay Blaine, if you could just bend your knees for me, and try and relax.”

He has Kurt’s hand in an iron grip, as he wills himself not to panic. The urge to close his legs, hiding from view, is overwhelming. Kurt must somehow know he’s distressed, as he cradles his head, stroking a hand through his hand.

He feels the gloved hand make contact with his skin, and flinches so hard, Kurt has to hug him tighter, whispering comforting words to him.

“I know it’s not nice Blaine, but this will be much easier if you try to relax, okay. You can ask me to stop at any time,” Fredrik says, “You’re eight centimetres dilated, so you’re now in the next stage of labour. You need to go just two more and then it’ll be time to push, so we’re going to move you to the delivery suite. Now, your waters haven’t broken yet, is that correct?”

“Yes,” he whimpers.

“Okay. So, usually that happens before you get this dilated, so the best course of action now is to artificially break them to speed things up a bit.”

“What exactly does that entail?” Kurt asks, his hand still stroking through his curls.

“So, I’ll use this small hook that I’ll go grab in just a second, and make a tear in the amniotic sac surrounding your baby. The amniotic fluid will then drain out, like it does in the movies, if a bit less dramatic.”

“Is that okay, sweetie?” Kurt asks.

_‘No,’_ he wants to say, _‘I want it all to stop.’_

“Y-Yeah. Just, can you make it quick?” He manages to say.

It seems that Burt had been lurking not too far away, for he enters as soon as the midwife leaves.

“Everything okay,” he asks, his cheery demeanour a jarring contrast to how he’s currently feeling.

“Dad, now’s really not a good time,” Kurt says, not leaving his side.

“Why, is something wrong?”

“No, they’ve just got to break Blaine’s waters. Do think you could just give us some privacy for a bit?”

Kurt must give his Dad a pointed look, for the man leaves without too much protest.

“Okay Blaine,” say Fredrik, face appearing around the curtain, this time accompanied by another midwife, and armed with the equipment he cannot bring himself to look at, “So this shouldn’t take too long now. Just try to keep calm okay. My colleague, Mary, is here for backup. Just give me a couple minutes to get situated, and then we’ll start.”

The touches are so much worse this time, going much further, and feeling much more forceful.

He realises he’s shaking, crying, and his legs have tensed, just before the hand is gone. Opening his eyes, the first thing he sees Kurt’s worried face, before looking down at the concerned expressions of the midwives.

“It’s okay Blaine,” Fredrik says, “Just take while to calm down, and we’ll try again.”

In total, they try about five times, but each time he can’t help picturing grey eyes, sandy hair, and that gravelly voice that’s plagued his nightmares for months.

After closing his legs, and turning away from the midwives once again, Fredrik stands up from his position, moving so Blaine can see him clearer.

“I think it’s best if we leave breaking the waters for now, and move you into the delivery suite.”

“No, no, it’s okay, keep going. It needs to be done.”

“Blaine, you are in clear distress, and to carry on with you in that state would not only be unethical, but could be dangerous to you and the baby. We’ll try again later. For all we know, they could break naturally.”

Once he’s left, Blaine breaks down in tears, sobs unstoppable, as he feels his control slipping away from him.

“It’s okay,” Kurt’s says, trying to hide his own tears, “It’ll all be okay.”

* * *

The delivery suite feels much more calming, and after a long crying session with his Mom, he feels much better.

Kurt has been shooting him concerned looks ever since his freak out. He knows he got really upset earlier, and even saw Burt taking him from the room to comfort him while his Mom was with him.

While Kurt was off calming himself down, most likely in the hospital café, he’d allowed some of his friends to come in and see him. Knowing them, they were probably going stir crazy in the waiting room from the sheer number of them, and their tendency to be a bit dramatic.

He’d found that Sam was a great help when he needed to walk around the room to relieve the pain in his back, and Santana’s no-nonsense attitude helped him through the now more painful contractions. Tina also helped calm him down when he was on the brink of tears after they suggested trying again to break his waters. He’d refused, point blank, to do anything until Kurt returned.

It took fifteen minutes before Kurt returned. He could tell he’d made an attempt to hide the fact that he’s been crying, but Blaine could still see that his eyes were still slightly red-rimmed.

“Hey,” he says, returning to his bedside, “Sorry, I just had to step out for a bit.”

“It’s okay.”

“Okay Blaine, now Kurt’s back, are you ready to try again?” Fredrik asks, entering the room.

“Yeah,” he somehow brings himself to say.

The feeling of the gloved hand touching him is not much better than before, but he finds himself being able to withstand it for much longer before he pushes away. It takes three tries, but finally they manage it, and he feels the rush of his waters breaking between his legs.

“Well done sweetie, well done,” Kurt sobs in relief.

“So, things have progressed since I last checked Blaine,” Fredrik says, “You’re now ten centimetres, which means you’re ready, and you should start feeling the urge to push. I’m going to go get the other midwives, and we can now get on with the delivery, okay?”

“Okay,” he breaths.

As Fredrik leaves, Kurt kisses his temple, his hand returning to stroking his curls.

“You can do this,” he says, “I know you can. I love you so much.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains some fairly graphic descriptions of a birth scene.  
> As a squeamish person myself, who faints from just hearing about something gory, I didn’t go into too much detail, but if you’re squeamish too I’d read with caution.

Everything happens very quickly, in a flurry of movements around him. Fredrik returns with Mary, the other midwife, all geared up and ready to go. Equipment is all set up, and they get into position for the delivery.

Turning his head slightly, he can just about see Kurt’s face. His eyes are anxiously watching what’s going on in the room, and his expression is becoming more and more scared. No matter how scared he is though, he never leaves his side, and he never stops holding his hand.

Mary, the other midwife, is currently watching the machine which is monitoring his contractions. There seems to be some communication going on between her and Fredrik, but he’s so out of it, he cannot work out what it is.

“So, Blaine,” Fredrik says, “There’s a contraction coming up soon. Now I want you to use the feeling that you should get, that feels like you need to push, put your chin to your chest, and push as your body tells you to.”

“Okay,” he mutters.

It’s a matter of seconds before he feels it: a heavy pressure in his pelvis. Bracing himself, he pushes with all his strength, his grip on Kurt’s hand tightening.

Time doesn’t seem to exist in the room. He can’t tell whether he’s been pushing for one minute, or forty. All he knows is that it doesn’t seem to be doing much.

“God, how long does this usually take?” He grunts, in between contractions.

“This usually takes around an hour,” Fredrik says, “The most important thing to do is to keep going. Don’t think about how long it’s taking.”

An hour right now, sounds like a lifetime. They’ve already been here eight hours, and he thinks he’s starting to lose his mind. Despite how much time he has, he’s becoming increasingly aware that with every second that goes by, it becomes uncomfortably close to the time when he will see his baby. Will he be able to tell who the father is? Will Kurt?

Before he knows it, he’s imagining his baby in his arms, grey eyes staring back. _His_ eyes. And she has his sandy hair too. What if Kurt can’t tell? Could he live his life hiding his biggest secret? Or even if he can’t tell, can he live without knowing?

Now filled with a whole other feeling of anxiety, his breaths start to come faster. Although there’s not many people in the room, it’s small, everybody is crowded around him, and there’s equipment and machines that he doesn’t know what they are used for. It’s suffocating.

His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, and his head is muddled in confusion. He tries to sit up, to clear his mind and to move away from those around him, but a gentle hand pushes him back down.

“Blaine, you can’t sit up okay. If you want to change position that’s okay, but you need to relax for your next contraction.”

“I can’t… I can’t do…” he mutters, short for breath.

“What’s wrong?” Fredrik asks.

“There’s too many people,” he rasps, “I need some space.”

“Is he okay?” Kurt asks, a hint of panic in his voice.

“This can be very overwhelming. Let’s clear the space for a bit. I’ll stay to make sure everything’s okay, and to work through the next contractions.”

There’s some protest from Kurt, but Mary manages to persuade him to leave with the promise that they’ll stand right outside the door.

With the room now mostly empty and quiet, only the beeping of the monitor to be heard, he can focus on trying to calm down.

“Take some deep breaths. You’ve got a contraction coming up, okay,” Fredrik says.

Somehow, the pain of his contraction is worse without Kurt there to hold his hand. Taking a generous amount of the gas and air, the feeling finally starts to dissipate. With large, calming breaths, he’s gearing himself up to ask the question that’s been in the back of his mind since he got here.

“Fredrik?” He asks. The man looks up, surprised that Blaine’s calmed down enough to speak. “I need you to do something for me, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Please.”

“I don’t know Blaine,” Fredrik says, reluctant, “It will depend on what it is.”

“Then promise you won’t tell I asked,” he says, desperation leaking into his voice.

“Okay,” Fredrik says, moving to sit closer to him.

“When she’s born, I need you to find out what her blood type is,” he sees Fredrik’s eyes widen, “Don’t… don’t judge me,” he whispers, “It’s not what it sounds like.”

“Okay,” Fredrik whispers, “Okay, I can do that.”

Fredrik goes to move away, but he reaches out to stop him.

“Please don’t tell Kurt… Please,” he begs.

“I won’t. I promise.”

* * *

It’s not long before Kurt and Mary return, immediately resuming their previous positions. Kurt wipes his forehead with a damp cloth, and whispers, “You’re doing so well sweetie,” to him.

Time slips away from him again as he resumes pushing. He can feel pressure in his pelvis increasing, and he hopes that means the baby is moving.

“We can see the head!” Fredrik cheers, “Kurt, do you want to look?”

Half-dazed, Kurt moves to see, his face scrunching up when he sees what he imagines is the bloody mess down there.

“Her head is more visible when Blaine’s pushing, but you can just about see there.”

“Wow,” Kurt breaths, “Oh my God, Blaine, I can see our daughter!”

“You’d better be able to after all this work I’m doing.”

“Another contraction’s coming, and it’s a big one,” Mary says, and Kurt rushes to his side.

She was right. If the contractions weren’t painful enough, this one feels like it lasts much longer. He can feel Fredrik’s hand, guiding the head of the baby, and it triggers the memory of that gravelly voice from so long ago.

_“Stop resisting, it’s not gonna help you.”_

_There’s a hand grasping his throat, and another unbuckling his pants._

_“You we’re asking for it out there, on that dance floor. Don’t pretend like you don’t want it now. You’re just a slut, aren’t you?”_

_The hand grasps his neck tighter, and he whimpers._

_“Say it. Go on, say it!”_

“No!” He shouts, and tries to close his legs. Hands stop his efforts, and looking down where Fredrik was one moment ago, now sits _him_.

“Blaine, stop. It’s okay, you’re safe.”

There’s something, or someone, holding him back from getting up, just like that night.

“No, stop! STOP!”

He must be here. He’s tracked him down. He’s found out he’s pregnant. He’ll tell everyone what happened. He’ll tell everyone that the baby might not be Kurt’s.

In his panic, he hadn’t realised the flurry of movement around him. There are additional midwives which have rushed into the room, as well as a doctor. The machine monitoring the baby is beeping quite loudly. The air, thick with tension, is suffocating.

Vaguely he hears, “Baby’s in distress,” from a voice he doesn’t recognise.

“What’s happening?” The panicked voice of Kurt says.

“He’s having a panic attack. It’s causing the baby to struggle.”

“Contraction,” someone warns.

“Blaine you’ve got to push. Push!”

He looks down again, and it’s Fredrik. His surroundings are still blurry, but he can feel himself coming back down to Earth, slowly.

“Blaine, push!” Fredrik urges once again.

He tries. He Really tries, but he can tell it’s not enough.

“His pushes are too weak for my liking,” the doctor says, looking over Fredrik’s shoulder.

“Does he need a C-section?” Kurt asks.

“It’s too late. The baby is already near the end of the birth canal,” the doctor replies, taking over from Fredrik’s position. “Blaine, I’m going to need your consent to do an assisted birth with forceps, and I will to need to do an episiotomy. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he breaths, exhausted.

He’s read about episiotomies before, and he can’t quite believe it’s happening to him right now. He’d skipped that chapter after he’d gotten the idea from the first paragraph, the thought making him feel slightly sick.

Somebody injects him with what he assumes is some sort of pain relief, or a numbing agent, and he catches a glance of the scissors and forceps. It’s like something out of one of his more imaginative nightmares. It’s not as scary as the media portrays it, but his muddled brain isn’t helping the situation..

Although dulled by the injection, he can feel the cut, and it hurts nonetheless. He vaguely hears himself cry out in pain, before the doctor moves the forceps into position.

“You’re going to get a contraction soon Blaine,” Fredrik says, much closer to him than before. “You need to push with it, and Dr Ramos is going to gently pull with you.”

The sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, but he tries to ignore it in favour of pushing his hardest.

“He’s crowning,” the doctor says.

All he can feel is burning. When they call it the, ‘ring of fire’, they’re not lying. He can’t help the pained whimpers that escape him, and he’s sure Kurt’s hand must hurt from where he’s gripping it.

“The head’s out! We need one big push on the next contraction Blaine, and baby should be out.”

Face flushed, palms sweaty, and quickly running out of the little energy he has left, he puts his everything into the next push.

“Keep going, keep going!”

“You can do it B,” Kurt says, leaning in towards him.

He’s making noises he didn’t know he could make, more of a scream than a cry, before he finally feels a rushing feeling.

There’s cheering, congratulations thrown around. Kurt kisses him, and he can feel the grin that is plastered across his face. The baby is taken to the other side of the room to check she’s okay after being in distress, while he focuses on delivering the afterbirth.

“Baby seems to have not suffered during distress. Everything looks great,” one of the new midwives says.

“Does Daddy want a cuddle?” Fredrik teases, baby cradled in his arms.

Still in the middle of delivering the afterbirth, he says, “Daddy’s busy right now, but I think Papa would.”

Kurt cradles the baby likes she’s the most expensive jewel in the world. There are tears in his eyes, and there’s that look in his eyes that he’s only seen a handful of times. Complete adoration. Pure, unadulterated, unconditional love. Nothing is going to stop Kurt from loving this little girl. He’s not really sure if that makes him feel better about the situation or not.

“Hello Helena,” Kurt coos, “You are so beautiful. Everyone’s just going to fall in love with you when that see you.”

Now his jobs finally done, the exhaustion really starts to set in. Listening to Kurt babble away to little Helena, he feels his eyes dropping of their own accord, and before he knows it, he’s asleep.

* * *

“She’s honestly the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen,” Tina says, tears freely rolling down her face.

Their friends have been on a rotation to meet the baby. He’s been asleep throughout. Well mostly. He’s been pretending for past half-hour.

Tiny whines make themselves known. Fredrik returns, deducing that she’s probably tired, and takes her to the nursery. He chooses this moment to conveniently wake up.

“So how was the birth?” Sam asks.

“Horrible,” he says, “I don’t think I’m ever going to stop hurting.”

“Blaine was amazing,” Kurt says, “Even when things didn’t go to plan, he kept going. I don’t think I could have done it.”

“Well count your blessings that you never have to,” he grumbles, wincing in pain as he moves to a more comfortable position.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Tina asks.

“The birth, or right now? Because I can tell you that no amount of pain relief seems to make it go away.”

“Okay guys, I’ve given you longer than we agreed. Can’t you let a proud Grandfather bask in his happiness?”

Burt bustles into the room, Carole in tow, now armed with an enormous pink balloon that says, ‘Congrats it’s a girl!’.

“Sorry Burt. Just got caught up in the excitement,” Sam says.

“Blaine, you’re awake. How’re you doing,” Carole asks, placing a teddy and a bouquet of flowers on his nightstand.

“Could be better,” he replies.

“Kurt tells me you went through a bit of an ordeal in there,” Burt says, taking a seat, “Glad to see you’re doing well now. I must say, that little girl you delivered is beautiful. There’s got to be some of Lizzie in her.”

“Dad, she doesn’t look like anyone yet. You can’t possibly tell.”

“I know about these things Kurt,” Burt laughs.

What he would give to fall asleep again, right now.

* * *

“Good you’re alone.”

It’s Fredrik.

Everyone else has gone down to the hospital diner for a late, celebratory dinner, so he thought he could spend some time going through the various presents he’d received.

“Yeah. Is everything okay?” He asks.

“I’ve got thee blood test results.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hate me too much for the cliffhanger 😬


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...

“R-really?” he stutters.

Fredrik shuffles into the room, checking over his shoulder to see if anyone’s coming.

“It wasn’t easy. There were a few hoops I had to jump through, but I got it in the end.”

He comes to sit in the chair by his bed. Now the moment’s here, he’s not really sure he’s ready. He knows there won’t be any good answers, it’s impossible to tell if the baby’s Kurt’s, but it is possible to tell if the baby isn’t. This fact, however, does nothing to alleviate his nerves.

“Wow, okay... Okay,” there’s a lump in his throat that’s making it hard to speak, but he manages to force the words, “What did they say?”

“She’s A-positive.”

The rushing in his ears is deafening. He needs to lie back in his bed, too dizzy to sit up. Vaguely, he registers Fredrik’s concerned expression, but his mind has gone completely blank.

This can’t really be happening.

“No,” he whispers.

“I guess it’s bad news,” Fredrik says, offering a comforting hand.

“I’m type-B, and Kurt’s type-O.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t cheat... if that’s what you’re thinking,’ he says, head hanged.

There’s silence as Fredrik works out what he means. How that’s possible. He knows he’s got it when he lets out a quiet gasp.

“Blaine... you don’t mean to tell me, it was non-consensual.”

He doesn’t reply, but his silence speaks volumes.

Fredrik sighs, “What are you going to do?”

“I’ve got to tell him. I’ve got to tell Kurt.”

“Do you want me to be there with you when you do it?”

“No. No, I have to do this alone.”

* * *

He’d never considered this situation. He can’t look at her. Here’s this beautiful baby girl, his _daughter_ , and all he can think about is her father. Her father who isn’t the one he wanted it to be. The one holding her, babbling away to her right now.

“Does Daddy want a cuddle?” Kurt says, a fond smile on his face.

“It’s okay. I’m a bit tired.”

“You were tired last time,” Kurt points out, shifting uncomfortably. He’d never actually confronted him over his behaviour, always choosing to believe whatever he told him. “Why won’t you hold her?”

He’s pleading with him. He can see it in his eyes.

“You’ve been off the whole pregnancy. I just put it down to the changes you were going through, and during the birth, I thought you were just incredibly scared, which is understandable. But something’s wrong, I realise that now. You won’t hold her, you won’t even look at her. Whenever anyone’s here, talking about her, you’re asleep. Now I’m starting to think you were faking it.”

There’s a desperate edge to his voice. Tears are threatening to fall from both of them.

“Kurt...”

“What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need help? I can get you someone to talk to. Just tell me, please.”

His gaze stays resolutely on the floor. He knew the confrontation was coming, but that didn’t mean he was prepared for it. Just thinking about what he’s about to reveal, causes his throat to close up.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs after a pronounced pause. “I’m so sorry.”

“What is it?” Kurt whispers, taking his hand.

“I should have told you a long time ago, I just didn’t know how. Every time I tried, the words just got stuck, and they wouldn’t come out, and the longer I left it, the worse it got. So I tried to ignore it, but that didn’t work either. I just... I-”

He’s spiralling. His brain’s a mess of thoughts, trying to form a cohesive story but becoming muddled, and he’s sure his increasingly hysterical tone is not lost on Kurt.

“It’s okay,” Kurt says, “Just tell me.”

“Kurt...” he whispers, tears now freely falling, “She’s... she’s not yours.”

With a hitch in his breath, Kurt holds the baby tighter, protecting her from the reality of his words.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re not her father,” he sobs, hiding his face in his hands.

Kurt doesn’t say anything for a long time, and he can’t bring himself to look at his expression. He fears what he’ll find there: anger, disgust, betrayal.

He’s not sure how much time passes, before Kurt whispers, “Who was it?”

“What?”

“Who’s her father? Josh?”

“No-”

“That secret friend you have. The one you apparently see all the time.”

“No, I swear.”

“Then who was it? Who did you cheat on me with? Again.”

“I didn’t... I-”

“Right, Kurt cuts him off, “So I’m not her father, but you never cheated on me. Explain that one to me, because for the life of me, I can’t work it out!”

He can tell Kurt’s trying his hardest not to shout, but nonetheless, his voice is raised. Helena, sensing the hostility in the room, starts to stir in Kurt’s arms, and Kurt tries to settle her while wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“Why would you do this,” Kurt says, brokenly, “You promised me. You said you’d never do this again. We’re supposed to be getting married, and how can we do that if I can’t trust you?”

“I didn’t want to!” He shouts, fully waking up the baby. Cries fill the room, only making the atmosphere that much more tense.

Fredrik enters as the piercing cries get louder.

“Does someone need to be taken for a nap?” He asks. He’s acting awkward, like he knows exactly what he’s walked into, but is trying to hide it. And he’s failing. Badly.

There’s an awkward shuffle as the crying baby is transferred from one person to another, before a deafening silence falls on the room.

“Explain,” Kurt says, not offering any indication towards what he’s thinking.

“I didn’t cheat... I didn’t want to have s-sex with him.”

“What are you saying Blaine,” Kurt breaths. His eyes are wide, as though he already knows the answer, but isn’t willing to accept that it may be true.

“You were away, on that business trip. I thought it would be a good idea to go to this party; Santana and Rachel were going too. I thought I’d meet some new people, makes some friends. But I must have had too much to drink, because there was this man, and... and he dragged me to his room, and...”

“Like Daniel...”

Their eyes meet with understanding. The tension in Kurt fades, and is immediately replaced with concern.

“Daniel was spiked though. I was just stupid, and drank too much.”

“I’m sure you didn’t get that drunk by accident. He must have messed with your drink somehow. It’s not like you to drink that much. But I don’t understand, why didn’t you ask for help afterwards?”

“I did... kind of. I went to a rape clinic the next day. They collected any evidence if I wanted to press charges, but kept everything confidential. They gave me some medicine for some injuries I had, and gave me an STD test. I tried to tell you what happened, but just couldn’t. You never think it’s going to happen to you, and I was just so scared that it had happened to me. I was worried about what people would think of me, that they’d think it was my fault, or worst of all, that I had cheated and was just using this as an excuse.”

“None of this is your fault. It’s whoever did this to you,” Kurt says, moving to sit on the bed next to him, wiping away his tears that had started to dry.

“You believe me?” He asks, incredulously.

“I love you, and if anyone has the courage to reveal they have been sexually assaulted, I tend to believe them. So if I didn’t believe you, what would that make me?”

“And you’re not angry I didn’t tell you?”

“No. Disappointed you didn’t feel you could tell me? That Helena isn’t mine? Sure. I’m angry at whoever did this to you, but I’m not angry at you.”

Reassured, he feels the tension leave his body. They sit there, wrapped around each other, until all his previous worries leave his mind. There’s one question, the most difficult one, that just won’t leave his mind.

“What do you want to do?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“About Helena... she’s not yours.”

Kurt turns suddenly towards him, an affronted look upon his face.

“Wh- Blaine! I _love_ her. I don’t care if she’s my flesh and blood, she’s my _daughter_. Our daughter. She’s not going anywhere. Do... do you not...”

He can’t finish the sentence, but judging by Kurt’s expression, the very thought of what he was suggesting is making him feel sick.

“I don’t know Kurt. I don’t know. Every time I look at her, I think of him. What if she grows up to look like him? I don’t know how I’d handle it.”

“Therapy,” Kurt says simply, “You need to see someone. We both do. I know you can love her, I’ve seen it in you. Remember when we decorated her room? You’ve got to work through your feelings towards him, and you’ll be able to accept her.”

“What if I can’t?” He whispers.

“You can. And you know why? Because you are the strongest man I know.”

“Not strong enough to tell everyone though,” he says, hanging his head.

“You don’t have to tell anyone,” Kurt says, “But I must say Blaine, I really think you should report this.”

“You do?”

“If it’s the same guy who attacked all those other people, it could help.”

“And I’m the only one who knows what he looks like...” he adds.

“What?! Blaine, you know what he looks like, and you have evidence? Look, I don’t want to pressure you, but I think you have a really good chance.”

“I’ll think about it. Everything’s happened so quickly, I need some time to process.”

“Okay,” Kurt gets up from the bed, and kisses his forehead, “I’ll leave you to rest. I’d better go and check on Helena.”

“What are we going to tell everyone?” He asks in a small voice.

“We can keep it a secret if you want, but if we’re going to report this, they’re going to have to find out at some point.”

“It’s probably for the best... okay.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it. You don’t need to suffer from this anymore.”

* * *

His nap must have turned into a full night’s sleep, because he’s woken up by the breakfast service. There’s a rumpled looking Carole and Burt in the room with him, both cooing over Helena, and a sleeping Kurt in the chair next to him, head resting beside him on the bed.

Conversation is stilted without Kurt. It’s glaringly obvious they know. He keeps catching their pitying looks towards him, the uncomfortable glances at each other. It’s the elephant in the room, and no one knows what to do about it. Do they ignore it? Address it? Pretend nothing’s changed?

“Good morning,” Fredrik says, entering, “Good news. If your next check’s good, they’re happy to discharge you. I still want to make sure those stitches are holding, but I’m pretty confident you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.”

“I see sleeping beauty here’s having a lay in today.”

Almost as though Kurt knew they were talking about him, he chooses that moment to wake up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and blinking from the bright lights of the hospital room, Kurt turns to see what’s happening.

“Sorry. Didn’t sleep until late last night. Is everything okay?”

“Perfect. I’ve just got to do a final check, and you’re discharged!”

“Great. Do you think I could talk to you outside?”

There’s a silent understanding between the two men, and they both shuffle out of the room. Kurt’s up to something, and he has a pretty good idea what it’s about.

“You feeling better Blaine?” Carole asks awkwardly, after some time.

“Yes, thank you,” he replies stiffly.

Things couldn’t be more awkward if he tried. Burt looks like he wants to say something, but seems to think better of it. This wouldn’t bother him so much, if it wasn’t for the suspicious glint in his eye.

“Is it just you two left?” He asks, trying to alleviate the tension.

“Yeah. We convinced everyone to go home and sleep when you fell asleep for the night,” Carole says, “It took a bit of convincing, but a cuddle from Helena did the job.”

At the mention of the baby, he chances a glance at her. She’s swaddled in a knitted white blanket his mother had gifted him, wearing a pale yellow baby grow. She’s making the tiniest little snuffling noises, wriggling where she’s held in Burt’s arms. It’s the longest he’s managed to look at her, but it’s more difficult than he expected. It seems silly to be afraid of an infant, but he can’t help it.

Fredrik and Kurt return, both pretending nothing is out of the ordinary.

“So are you ready for your check up?”

* * *

He’s quickly discharged after a he’s reassured Fredrik he will call if he’s concerned about anything, and that he will keep an eye on his stitches. The signing of the birth certificate was anything but pleasant. He wanted Kurt on there but, as he was informed quietly, if he wishes to prosecute he can’t have Kurt named as the father.

The journey in the taxi is an unexpected ordeal. The seat is particularly uncomfortable, meaning it’s an unpleasant ride the whole way from the hospital, to their apartment. It doesn’t help that Helena decides to make her presence known once they’re halfway there.

Kurt, as usual, is a saint. He manages to juggle calming down Helena, helping him out the taxi and into the apartment, and bringing all their belongings with him. Although he feels guilty leaving Kurt to do everything, the cynical part of him thinks it’s only fitting after all he’s been through the past day.

It’s not until later, a well deserved coffee in his hands and Helena asleep in Kurt’s arms, that he asks Kurt what he spoke to Fredrik about.

“I wanted to know how he found out about how I wasn’t the father, and if he would give evidence if we ever got a case to court.”

“You really think we’d get that far?”

“I sure hope so,” Kurt says, “It makes me sick thinking that someone has hurt you, and I’m willing to support you in any way if it protects you, or Helena.”

“Okay,” he whispers, “Can you look up what I have to do?”


	11. Chapter 11

“They really don’t do much, do they?” Santana says, cradling Helena in her arms, next to Kurt on the sofa. “I mean they eat, sleep, and poop, and that’s it really.”

“Santana, do think you can stop insulting my _week_ old daughter.”

“Insulting? No Kurt, I’m simply jealous. Wish I could do what she does all day.”

“Nonetheless,” Rachel says, “Don’t you think that it’s time Auntie Rachel gets a cuddle?”

“Don’t you think we should give her some more time before she’s subjected to that?” Santana quips, shooting Rachel a playful glare.

“Can’t be any worse than _Auntie Santana_ ,” Rachel retorts.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ladies, stop,” Kurt says, “Helena needs her bottle anyway, so I’ll take her.”

There are groans of protest, but Kurt manages to escape the room, Helena in tow. Now, all the focus is left on him, the silent one at the back of the room.

Although he knows that some, if not most, of his friends know the truth, no one has yet to acknowledge it.

“How was your therapy session today Blaine?” Rachel asks, freezing him in place from where he was about to take a sip of his coffee.

Santana shoots her a warning glare, but Rachel remains indignant. 

“What?!” Rachel says, affronted, “Blaine shouldn’t feel ashamed about seeking help. He should feel comfortable to discuss his feelings with his friends.”

“Yes, well some of us like to keep some aspects of our private life, _private_ ,” Santana says.

It’s strange to sit in silence while everyone talks about you, but he can’t find it in himself to say anything. He’d had enough of that this week. He and Kurt had had a joint therapy session not long after he was discharged, and both had their own not long after that. He can’t say he particularly enjoyed putting all the fears he’s kept hidden for so long out in the open, and his interview down at the police station had been even worse.

Kurt had looked up what the protocol was for reporting a sexual assault, and had given him the (firm) push he needed, to go down to the station and file an allegation. It’s one thing to sit in a room with a relative stranger, and discuss your emotions, worries, and deepest, darkest fears, but it’s another to sit in an interview room, with a police man, and recount the very worst day of your life in excruciating detail.

What’s worse is that people obviously want to know what’s happening, but are too afraid to ask him (not that he’d probably answer them anyway). The only person he tells is Kurt, and he’s sure Kurt gives the simplified version to anyone who asks. 

Due to his revelation, Burt and Carole have decided to extended their visit even longer (which he has no idea how they are affording), and his mother has decided to do the same. His father had to return home as work simply wouldn’t give them any more time off, but he wasn’t too sad about it. He was surprised enough that he’d visited at all. They had all been very helpful the past week, taking care of Helena when Kurt was unable to. He’s sure Kurt must have had a conversation about him, and his reluctance around the baby, for they have allowed him to get away with not interacting with her, without complaint.

Their friends have been useful too, helping out when Burt, Carole, and his Mom are tired from all the unexpected babysitting they’re doing. Some have been helping out buying groceries, others helping with the cleaning, but Rachel and Santana mostly just come around to sit on their sofa and cuddle Helena, passing her back when she cries. 

“What’s going on here?” Kurt asks, returning with Helena happily feeding on her bottle. Over the past week, he’d been expressing like crazy. Unable to feed her himself, all her meals had been coming from him using the express pump, making him start to feel a bit like a dairy cow.

“Rachel’s being insensitive as usual,” Santana says.

“I was simply expressing my concern for Blaine’s wellbeing,” Rachel says.

“I thought I made it clear that any sensitive questions came to me _only_ ,” Kurt says through his teeth, his famous glare sent straight to Rachel.

“Fine. I’ll ask you then. Have you heard anything from the police station?”

“Rachel-”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts Kurt, “I don’t mind.”

“Blaine, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Rachel has a smug look on her face, and Kurt huffs before explaining.

“They’re looking through the evidence stored at the emergency rape centre, and looking for people on the sex offenders register in New York, that match Blaine’s description. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, “You can’t keep skirting around this. If you keep tiptoeing around the issue, nothings ever going to change.”

“Since when were you a therapist?” Santana asks.

“You know what, fine. I’ll shut up... for now.”

As thankful as he is for the change in subject, deep down, he knows she’s right.

* * *

Life carries on mostly the same in the second week. Everyone’s still helping out, he’s still avoiding Helena, and they’re still going to therapy. Kurt’s been glued to his phone much more this week, he presumes to the police station, as he doesn’t share with him what he’s talking about. Today however, on an evening that they have unusually alone, the conversation seems different, and when he sees Kurt coming over to talk to him afterwards, he knows he isn’t going to like what’s about to be said.

“That was the officer that’s working on your case,” Kurt says, gesturing it his phone, “They’ve finished the list of sex offenders, and they want you to come down to the station to review it...”

“Oh,” he replies, slightly taken aback, “Wow.”

“How do you feel about it? Are you gonna go?”

“I can’t have this on my conscience for the rest of my life, knowing I could have done something.”

Kurt moves closer to him on the sofa, his head falling onto his shoulder and his hands encircling his waist.

“I wish I could stop you from hurting. If I could take away all the pain, I would. I hate seeing you suffer,” he mutters into his neck.

“And I’m sorry this is causing you to worry so much. You must already be stressed caring for Helena...”

“Stop,” Kurt says, “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m not going to deny that it’s not hard, but I’m happy to do it.”

“I just want this all to be over,” he says, struggling to hold back his tears.

“I know,” Kurt mutters, “I know.”

* * *

“Thank you for coming,” the police officer says, sitting opposite him, “I know this must be hard, but I’m glad you appreciate how important this is.”

He knows the officer is only trying to be polite, but he really wishes he’d stop stalling. It’s taking a lot for him to sit in this room, and the longer it takes, the harder it gets.

“So, in this folder are the photos of those on the sex offenders register in the New York area, that were close to your description.”

The officer places the folder in front of him. It’s not as large as he was imagining, but it’s still sizeable. To think that all of these people he’s about to look at have committed crimes similar or worse than what have happened to him, is extremely daunting.

“Are you okay to proceed?” He nods at the officer. “Okay. Do wish for me to stay in the room?”

“No thank you,” he whispers.

The officer leaves quietly, and then it’s just him and the folder. With a shaking hand, he opens it, and is met with the mugshot of a thirty-something man. His hair is much lighter, and he has a scar on his right eyebrow. It’s not him, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. The man’s name is at the bottom, along with what he was convicted for: Engaging in sexual activity with a child. The taste of bile fills his mouth as he looks back to the photo. He quickly turns the page, refusing to think about what that man had done. 

This continues for longer than he’d like. Most of the men were convicted for crimes like what he experienced, but some are too horrible to think about. Those he skips over quickly, unable to stop picturing what they had done. Most of the men are also too old, too blonde, and have eyes that are too dark. None of them are his attacker, and as much as he didn’t want to see him again, he hoped he would so that all this could come to an end.

The crushing defeat as he closes the folder, having looked through every photo, is palpable. He really thought he’d be in there, but his attacker is still unknown. What if he’s not even on the register? All this searching could have been for nothing. What’s going to happen next?

Waiting a few minutes to calm down, he quickly vacates the room, informing the officer that he’d finished, and he wasn’t in there.

“Okay, I know this is disappointing,” he says. “We’re going to expand our search. Be a bit more liberal on the descriptions, and increase the area to include New Jersey and Pennsylvania. We might expand this even further if we still don’t find him. I’m also going to contact NYADA and look through the student's records.”

He really doesn’t want to have to go through this again, but what can he do?

“Okay,” he says, for there’s not much else he _could_ say.

“Are you okay?” The officer asks, offering a comforting hand to his shoulder.

“No,” he says shakily, “Not really.”

* * *

He decides to walk the long way home, using the extra time to sort through his thoughts. The world goes on as normal. Nobody he walks past knows his life is crumbling away at the seams. Their lives are normal: no visits to the police station, therapy sessions, pitying looks. In the grand scheme of things, his life is pretty insignificant amongst the other billions of lives on the planet. So why does it feel like the end of the world?

Reaching the apartment, he opens the door as quietly as he can, hoping to slip by without being noticed. Kurt however must have been pacing around waiting for his arrival, for he rushes towards him as soon as he enters.

“How was it?” Kurt asks hurriedly.

“Horrible,” he mutters, hanging up his coat while avoiding Kurt’s eyes, “Just looking at all their faces, knowing what they’d done...”

“I know honey. I knew I should have come with you. God, why did we think this was a good idea?”

“Kurt, stop,” he says, “It’s fine. I managed to look through the photos, that’s what matters.”

“And?” Kurt asks with a significant look.

“Nothing,” he signs, “He wasn’t in there.”

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt says, “What happens now?”

“They’re expanding the criteria for the list, and are going to look at the students at NYADA. So, it’s just more waiting.”

“It’s not just waiting though Blaine. I can see this is like torture for you. I can’t even imagine...”

“I know, I just... I think I should go take a nap,” he says, the stress from the day starting to wear down on him.

“Okay,” Kurt whispers, offering a comforting squeeze to his shoulder.

As he walks to the bedroom, high pitched cries sound from the nursery. He hears Kurt sigh before entering the room, but not having to deal with the problem doesn’t help at all.

That’s the daughter of the man he’s been looking for all day. The daughter he can’t hold, feed, or even look at. The daughter he’s struggling to _love_. If he didn’t already feel defeated from not being able to find his attacker, adding his failure at being a father on top is just too much.

It’s with a barely concealed sob that he enters the bedroom. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like dialogue, because that’s basically what this chapter is.

In the week after his trip to the police station, things hadn’t really changed much. His mother had had to return home, and so did Carole, but Burt and their friends were still coming over regularly to help them out. He had a feeling that Burt wouldn’t leave until everything was sorted.

He can tell that the stress is starting to get to Kurt. He’s a worrier, and knowing your fiancé has been raped, and that the attacker is still at large, can’t be easy for him. That, and the fact that he is effectively a new, single father.

Kurt, also, seems to take comfort from having friends over much more than he does, which is how he finds himself in his current situation.

“Hey man,” Sam says, entering the kitchen.

“Hey,” he replies, looking up from where he’d been making coffee for everyone.

There’s a few seconds of silence as Sam watches him. He can tell Sam wants to something, and it’s uncomfortable

“She’s beautiful,” Sam says out of the blue.

His snaps up from what he’s doing, almost spilling the coffee everywhere. Sam quickly steps in, taking the pot from him.

“What?” He asks quickly.

“Helena. She’s beautiful. She’s got your eyes... and your nose.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He whispers, his gaze fixed resolutely on the ground.

“Because you won’t look at your daughter, and you should know what she looks like.” Sam says nonchalantly. He pauses, waiting for him to reply, but no reply comes. “Blaine, I know you. I know that when you feel you’ve done something wrong, you get lost in your guilt. I’m going to tell you the same thing I did last year: you need to start forgiving yourself.”

That time in his life feels like a lifetime ago. He may have been in a dark place then, but deep down he knew he’d get better. This time feels much worse. Something, someone, has changed him, and he hopes it’s not forever

“When you first moved in here, I promised I was going to be a better friend. Looking back, I didn’t even know what that meant. When you were in labour, I didn’t take things seriously. I didn’t realise something was wrong. This is me acting on that promise. What if you never catch the man that did this to you? Are you going to avoid Helena for the rest of your life?”

“N-no, I just... I _can’t_ Sam. I can’t look at her, because all I see is _him_.”

“She isn’t him,” Sam says, “He is _nothing_. Helena is yours and Kurt’s. _H_ e has nothing to do with her.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t,” he sighs.

“Well, you need to start trying,” Sam says, “For the sake of Helena. She deserves better than to grow up with a father that’s afraid of her, because she reminds him of his rapist.” And with that, he leaves.

He hates to say it, but this tough love thing actually does work.

Goddammit.

* * *

“Dad, I’m just going out to get some more milk. Is that okay?”

“No need to ask buddy,” Burt says, gently rocking a sleeping Helena in his arms. “I’ve got everything under control.”

If there’s anyone he’s had trouble reading after the truth came out, it’s Burt. The older man has been sending him these looks he can’t decipher the meaning of since before he left the hospital. It’s almost as though he suspicious of him, and his story. Today is no different, for once Kurt leaves, it’s just him, Burt, Helena, and the now familiar stare of Burt towards him.

It’s a good while before the uncomfortable silence between them is broken.

“Let’s cut the crap Blaine,” Burt says, “Be straight with me. I want to know what happened.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replies, trying his hardest not to stutter on his words.

“Kurt has been through so much in his life for someone his age. I will go to the end of the earth to protect him. Now I’ll be honest, I wasn’t all that impressed when you two got back together. Not after what had happened between the two of you; what you did to him. But I let it go. Then when you got engaged, you knew I wasn’t the biggest supporter. But again I let it go, because it made him happy. Then when I found out you were having a baby, I was worried. You’re both too young, but again, Kurt was happy, and after what happened to Finn, everyone deserved something to cheer them up. But finding out that that baby isn’t even Kurt’s, that you hid it from everyone, saying you were raped? That’s too far Blaine. I’ve had enough. I want to know everything. Now.”

The man sitting across from him, is a stark contrast to the one from only a few weeks ago. There is a furious glint in his eye, and if it weren’t for the baby in his arms, he’s pretty sure he’d be towering over him right now.

“S-sir, everything I’ve said since has been t-true.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?!” Burt says, his voice raised. “You lied all these months, and I’m supposed to now believe you’re telling the truth?”

“I was scared...”

“What, and you’re not scared now?”

“N-no,” he stutters, “I couldn’t live with myself anymore. I always wanted to tell the truth, I just didn’t know how.”

“Do you know what I think?” Burt says, his eyebrows raised challengingly, “I think this is just a great plot of yours.”

“N-no-”

“Yeah,” Burt cuts him off, “I think you cheated again, got pregnant, and formulated an excuse that nobody would dare to question. I mean of course you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself, you couldn’t last time.”

“How dare you.”

Both of their heads snap to the open door at the sound of a new voice, only to see that Kurt had returned.

“Kurt-” Burt says, but is quickly cut off.

“No. I won’t have you talking to my fiancé like that,” He takes a step forward, placing the milk on the table. Even from across the room, he can see that he’s furious.

“I believe him, our friends believe him, the police believe him. If you don’t believe him, that’s fine, but I no longer want you around him. I know you are my father, but I have my own family now, and I’ve got to protect them. You don’t get to judge Blaine for what he did after he was assaulted. You’ve never been assaulted, you don’t know what it’s like. And frankly, anyone who decides to ignore the sheer amount of evidence collected from other people who were assaulted in similar ways, and from the rape clinic, isn’t welcome here.”

“Kurt,” Burt says, lost for words.

“I’d like you to give me my daughter, and then I think you should leave.”

Wordlessly, Burt hands Helena to Kurt, before collecting his things, and silently leaving the apartment.

As the door clicks shut, the first few tears start to fall, before he completely gives in to the sobs that don’t stop coming. Kurt gently places the now sleeping Helena in her crib, before wrapping him up in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Kurt’s shoulder.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kurt says.

“I keep messing up everything for you.”

“You haven’t. You and Helena are my priorities now. Anything that jeopardises that has no place in our lives. Okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

After the rollercoaster that was his confrontation with Burt, he falls back into his old support system. He arranges to meet Josh at their usual coffee shop the next day, hoping the man can put his mind at rest once again.

“So I guess you heard what happened?” He says, choosing to get it over and done with.

“I did,” he says simply, his expression not changing all that much.

“You’re not surprised?” He says, confused at the other mans reaction.

“Blaine,” Josh says with a sigh, “I already knew.”

“Wha- you knew?”

“You weren’t exactly subtle when you felt too uncomfortable to talk about what happened, and besides... I know what sexual abuse look like.”

“Really?” He whispers, not quite believing what he’s hearing.

“Yeah... My little sister, Natalie. She told my parents that she was being abused for five years, before she just stopped trying. It was my older brother Nathan. He was their golden boy; couldn’t put a foot wrong. He was a Johnson, and the Johnson’s are a respectable, Pennsylvanian family. He’d never do anything like that.”

Josh averts his gaze, hiding his emotions. He starts fiddling with a paper towel on the table, before taking a deep breath, and continuing.

“Well he did, and because they didn’t believe her, she had to suffer through it for ten years. I was the only person who believed her, but I was only a year older, and I couldn’t protect her. My brother, he’s seven years older, and we didn’t stand a chance. At the first chance she got, she left, filed for emancipation against my parents, and reported my brother to the authorities. So yes, I could guess pretty easily.”

“Wow,” Blaine breaths, “I don’t know what to say.”

“It will get better Blaine. My sister, she’s been in a long term relationship for three years now. Even after all she’s been through, she got better. I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t easy, but it’s possible.”

“But Helena. She’s going to remind me of him for the rest of my life.”

“She hasn’t done anything wrong Blaine. She can’t help who her biological father is. Love her. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

* * *

On the way home, he feels oddly light. Josh has always known the right thing to say, which makes sense now. It’s great to speak to someone who actually understands what he’s feeling, even if Josh hasn’t been assaulted himself. To be honest, he doesn’t think he’d be ready to talk to somebody who has.

When he arrives home, he’s relieved to find the place empty. Kurt must have taken Helena out for a walk in her stroller. After the emotional talk he’s just had, all he wants is a nap. He dresses in something more comfortable, turns down the bed the way he likes it, but just as his head hits the pillow, the doorbell rings.

With a sigh, he pads over to the door, hair rumpled from where he’d run his hands through it in frustration.

Opening the door, he’s faced with the last person he was expecting.

“Hey squirt!”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the unexpected hiatus, I’ve just started university and the work load is a lot to get used to.  
> Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

"Cooper..." He says, trying desperately not to show how much he doesn't want to be in this situation right now.

"That's right," his brother says, inviting himself inside, "Sorry I couldn't make it earlier, my boss just couldn't let me go. But I'm here now, and I want to see my favourite niece!"

“She’s not here right now,” he says, moving to shut the door.

“Oh, has Kurt taken her out? Must be a nice break for you.”

“Yeah, you can say that,” he says, the realisation that he won’t be able to get Cooper to leave starting to set in.

After putting off the inevitable conversation with Cooper by brewing a pot of coffee (because there’s no way he can do this without some more caffeine), he finds himself across from his brother who looks far too at home on the sofa, for someone who’s been here for all of ten minutes.

Cooper’s acting as his normal self-centred self, curiously gazing around the apartment. There’s no doubt in his mind that Cooper doesn’t know. That his mother didn’t tell him. In a way he’s glad. He hadn’t liked how the news spread behind his back when he finally came clean, only now he faces having to tell him himself.

“So how’ve you been?” Cooper asks, now fully spread out on the sofa.

“I’ve been better,” he says, choosing to be honest from the start.

“Yeah, Mom said it was a difficult birth.”

“S-she did?” He stutters. What if his Mom did tell him? Cooper wouldn’t really be this insensitive if he did right?

“Yeah. She sounded a bit weird on the phone, but I gathered she was just worried, you know?”

“Yeah,” he muttered awkwardly, averting his eyes to stare at his mug. Apparently, even those who don’t know about his attack still know the details of his labour. Great.

“You’re better now though, right?”

“It’s only been three weeks Coop, I’ve got a long way to go yet.”

“Oh man, that sucks,” Cooper says, finally starting to show some sympathy for him. “I don’t envy you squirt. I don’t know how you did it.”

“Please don’t call me that,” he groans, “I’m engaged and I’ve given birth, don’t you think that makes me grown up enough for you to stop calling me that stupid nickname?”

“Blaine, we can be twenty years retired and unable to get out of bed on our own, and I will still be calling you squirt,” Cooper laughs.

The tension in the air, he’s sure only he felt, seems to dissipate at the joke. No matter how self involved Cooper gets, at the end of the day, he’s his brother, and he never fails to make him feel comfortable in the end.

“Cooper, there’s something I need to tell you, and I think it’s best if I tell you before Kurt gets back,” he says, now much more subdued.

“Okay,” Cooper replies, sitting up straighter. In all the years he’s known his brother, he’s never seen him come down to earth so quickly. Maybe he has matured slightly since he last saw him?

“So... umm... well, i-it’s about Helena.” Unsure how to proceed, he pauses to collect his thoughts, “I was assaulted... a few months ago. Kurt isn’t Helena’s father, my attacker is...” he says, trailing off at the end.

“Blaine...” Cooper breaths, lost for words.

“I was so scared, I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell anyone until after she was born, and I’d found out there was no way she could be Kurt’s. I know it’s bad... I just didn’t know what to do.”

“What’s happening now?”

“Kurt and I, we’re both seeing a therapist. She’s been helping me though everything. Kurt’s been great. He said it doesn’t make him love Helena any less, and I’ve been having some trouble... connecting with Helena, so he’s been taking on the brunt of the work. That’s why everyone was helping us out so much.”

“Have you reported the assault?” Cooper asks.

“Yeah. Luckily I have some evidence that helps the case, but they’re still trying to find the identity of whoever... did it. In fact, I’ve go to go up to the station to look at the sex offenders register again this week.”

There’s a heavy silence in the air. Cooper keeps looking at him strangely, not with the pitying expression that his friends have been directing at him, but there’s this unidentifiable look in his eye. It’s so strange to see his brother so different to his normal, goofy self. It’s unsettling.

It’s in that uncomfortable moment that Kurt returns, struggling with the stroller as he enters the apartment. Usually Cooper would be jumping out of his seat, poking fun at the two of them in any way he could, but the man stays seated with the same uncharacteristic look on his face.

After gently lifting Helena out of the stroller, Kurt makes his way to them, distracted. It’s not until he reaches the sofa that he realises that it’s already occupied.

“Oh, Cooper... Hi,” he says awkwardly, his eyes flicking from Cooper to Blaine rapidly.

“Hi Kurt,” Cooper replies simply. His eyes move to the baby cradled in Kurt’s arms, barely visible in the blankets except one tiny hand. “I came to meet my new niece.”

Kurt looks lost as to what to do, his eyes asking him for help.

“He knows,” he says, “I’ve just told him.”

“Oh,” Kurt says softly, hugging Helena closer to himself.

Cooper stands up suddenly, craning his head to see the baby snuggled in the bundle of blankets in Kurt’s arms. For a few moments, he just stands there, silently looking at the baby with that same unidentifiable look on his face. He and Kurt share a worried look, not expecting this reaction at all.

It doesn’t take long before a small smile replaces the look on Cooper’s face.

“She looks like you,” he says simply, his gaze still fixed on the baby. “I was worried you know... but she’s beautiful.”

Taking a step forwards, Cooper reaches out to touch the tiny hand that’s escaped from the blankets.

“I’ve been a bad brother,” he says suddenly.

“What?” Blaine replies, confused as to where this is coming from.

“I’m never here when you need me. Remember the Sadie Hawkins dance? I didn’t come home straight away because I didn’t realise how serious it was. I didn’t even know you were having trouble at school. You’ve gone through all these major changes in your life. You’ve got engaged, you’ve started university, you’ve had a baby! And how many times have I come to visit? Once.”

“Cooper, you know none of that matters to me-”

“No, Blaine. It does matter,” Cooper cuts him off, now starting to pace around the room.

“It’s been three weeks since my niece was born, and I’m only just visiting her. I get here, and my brother tells me that one of the most devastating things possible has happened to him, and I felt guilty. I’m supposed to feel bad for you, try and comfort you, but instead I was thinking about myself. I was even scared to see the baby, worried she’d look like some unknown man, when that shouldn’t matter at all.”

“It’s not the first reaction that matters, it’s everything that you think after. You know what you were supposed to feel, you’re feeling it now. Who cares if it didn’t come across at the time. You can’t always control your emotions.”

Cooper now has stopped pacing, instead watching Blaine as he manages to sound more confident than he has in months.

“I told you I was having trouble connecting with Helena, you want to know the truth? I haven’t _held_ her. Not once. I can’t even _look_ at her because all I see is my _rapist_. If you think you’re this terrible person because you were worried about who her biological Dad is, then you must think I’m a terrible person too.”

“No, Blaine-” Cooper tries to say, but he cuts him off once again.

“If you think you’ve not been around enough, then you can stop that right now. You can’t change the past, but you change what you do from now on, okay. Because I need my brother here right now.”

There’s silence.

Kurt looks completely shocked at his outburst, after all, it’s the most present he’s been in months.

Cooper hangs his head. “You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry. I’m going to be here for you now. Trust me.”

“I do,” he says.

The tension in the air dissipates as everyone calms down. Kurt, still holding Helena in his arms, gingerly walks over to Cooper, who’s now sat back down on the sofa.

“Do you want a cuddle?” He asks.

“I’d love one,” Cooper says, a grateful smile on his face.

Kurt shares a look with him across the room.

‘I love you,’ Kurt mouths.

Maybe everything will be okay.

* * *

“Ah, Mr. Anderson. Thank you for coming so quickly,” the officer in charge of his case says, entering the room.

Earlier that morning he’d received a call asking him to come back to the police station. They’d finished the next list, and wanted him to look through it. Still riding off the burst of confidence he’d gained earlier that week, he’d left as soon as possible.

“It’s not a problem officer,” he replies.

“So a quick update from when we last spoke; we were able to get access to the records of staff and students currently at NYADA. There weren’t many that fitted your description, so we’ve decided to expand the description the same as we have done for those on the sex offender register. We’ve put these specific people at the front of the folder. Now as you know, we’ve included people from Pennsylvania and New Jersey this time, however there are also a couple of recently released sex offenders from Connecticut we’ve included, because the nature of their crimes are similar to this case. Now, do you want to have some time first, or shall we proceed?”

“No, I’d like to get this over with officer,” he says. He’d forgotten just how much he hated this last time, and he can feel the confidence seeping out of him with every new piece of information.

The room he’s led to is exactly the same as before. It’s almost as though this place is frozen in time, unchanged. It’s with the heavy realisation that this may go the exact same way as last time, that he takes a seat where the folder lies, unassuming, on the table.

The officer leaves, but he doesn’t hear him. He can’t hear anything other than the pounding of his own heart, and the white noise that roars in his ears. That folder could hold the photo of his attacker. Mere weeks ago, and truthfully still now, that would have been the most terrifying thing he could think of, but now he’s got the strength to find him, because finding him means they are one step closer to sending him to prison.

The folder opens to the first NYADA student. It’s not him, and neither is the next one, or the one after that. Why was he stupid enough to think it would be that easy? That they would go to the same university as him, and would just be waiting right there for him to find them. On the fifth page, he’s faced with a photo of Josh. He certainly was not expecting to see one of his friends, and the shock is enough to shake him out of the daze he’d fallen into. Now, looking at the older man’s picture in front of him, the panic attack he had that first day he met him makes complete sense. The resemblance is quite remarkable. If he’s not mistaken, Josh has the exact same shade of sandy hair he remembers from that night.

A strange feeling, almost like he’s forgetting something, missing something, plays in the back of his mind.

Continuing to look through the folder, he finds he’s reached the sex offenders. It’s just as bad he remembers, seeing the photos of these men, reading what they’ve done. Each page he turns is a small part of his hope for finally catching his attacker slipping away. His mind is so clouded now, he’s not even really taking in everything he’s seeing. That is, until a glimpse of that same coloured hair catches his attention, just before he’s finished turning the page.

He scrambles to turn the page back, sitting straighter in his chair at the sight of the photo.

_It’s him._

The same sandy hair. The same grey eyes. The same angular face.

He almost can’t believe it. He doesn’t feel anything. It’s like he’s having an outer body experience, staring into the same eyes that have plagued his nightmares for months.

In his state of disbelief, his eyes move to the name at the bottom of the page.

_Nathan Johnson, Philadelphia_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly written during the height of my election anxiety, and I’m not even from the US! Hopefully it didn’t affect my writing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time, but at least it’s quick 🤷

“Hey honey, is something wrong?” Kurt says over the phone. He can hear him rustling around in the background, probably trying to get as many chores done as possible while Helena sleeps.

“Kurt,” he breaths, surprised at how vulnerable he sounds. The rustling stops, and he can only assume Kurt’s stopped in his tracks at the sound of his voice.

“What? What is is it?”

“I need you. Kurt, you need to come down here... I found him.”

“I’m on my way,” Kurt says, without missing a beat.

* * *

There had been a flurry of activity at the station ever since he’d revealed he’d found his attacker, but as soon as Kurt arrives, everything seems to slow down, and he can breathe easier.

“How’re you doing?” Is the first thing he says as he rushes to sit next to him, looking directly into his eyes and trying to gage what he’s feeling.

“I’m fine, just... confused.”

“Confused?”

He turns completely to look at Kurt. He’s not risking any miscommunication on this. He needs someone to help him sort out the mess of thoughts and feelings swirling around his head.

“I never told you how I met Josh,” he says, embarrassed about what he’s about to say, “I walked into a classroom at NYADA, I could only see him from the back, and he looked so much like him, I had a panic attack. He helped calm me down, took me out for coffee and everything. Anyway, I met up with him again earlier this week, and he basically told me he’d guessed what had happened to me because he’s seen it before. His brother had abused his sister for years, and no one had believed her.”

His brain is obviously struggling to connect that this man, who was nothing but an abstract idea of a person before, to being his attacker, for he’d never be able to talk about him so flippantly otherwise.

“Well, when I was looking through the list, I found him. When I looked down at the name, I realised why Josh looks so similar. It’s his brother.”

“Wow,” Kurt breaths, “But if Josh knew what is brother is like, what’s he doing hanging around him?”

“That’s what I’m confused about. Josh hates his brother, so I don’t know why he’d invite him to his college of all places.”

They sit in silence, lost in their thoughts. It’s only then that he notices that Kurt hasn’t brought Helena with him. He must have managed to find someone to look after her at the last minute. What sort of father doesn’t even notice that his daughter isn’t there? He really doesn’t need the reminder of how bad he’s failing in that respect on top of all that’s going on now.

“What are they doing?” Kurt asks, his eyes following the officers as they race around the room, swapping files, exchanging information, and making phone calls.

“They’re trying to find where he is. Apparently they also need enough evidence that he did it in order to justify the arrest, and to stop him getting out on bail afterwards.”

“Do they not have an address for him?”

“The last they told me was that his only registered addresses are his parents, and his old college. Wherever he’s staying, he’s probably trying to purposely fly under the radar.”

Kurt runs a frustrated hand through his hair, past the point of caring if it gets messed up.

“He better be glad he’s hard to track down, because you have no idea how much I want to punch his face in right now.”

“Mr. Anderson, Mr. Hummel, there’s been an update,” one of the officers informs them after some time. “With the help of the information you gave us, we have confirmed that Josh Johnson is in fact the brother of Nathan Johnson, and he has been brought in for an interview, to see if he can help us find where his brother is.”

“Thank you officer,” he says.

“I’m also here to inform you that he wants to speak with you.”

“Really?” He feels Kurt give his hand a comforting squeeze. “Can Kurt come too?”

“Of course. It will not be part of the official investigation so Kurt is allowed to attend, however an officer will be present just in case anything comes up that will need to go in the official records.”

* * *

The room they find Josh in is similar to the one they were in before, only with the absence of officers rushing around. It’s similarity to a waiting room, reminds him of that feeling of anticipation that seems to sit stagnant in the air. He can’t tell whether he’s about to hear good news, or bad news.

“Blaine,” Josh says, standing up as soon as as he enters, “I am so sorry, I had no idea.”

Unsure how to answer, he takes the seat across from where Josh had been sitting.

“How do you explain how he’s been getting into the university then?” Kurt says, his bitch glare in full force.

“When my sister reported him after she basically ran away from home, they didn’t have enough evidence to convict him. It was just her word against his, but they did check his computer. They found child pornography on it. He went to prison for two years, and that’s why he’s on the sex offenders register.”

The look on Josh’s face is so earnest, he’s starting to feel bad about dragging the man into all of this.

“My parents have always taken his side. They think he’s been wronged, so when he was released, they wanted to punish me for speaking out against him. They brought him with them when they helped me move in for my sophomore year. He’s always been manipulative, had friends much younger than him, just always flying under the radar. I’m pretty sure he has some friends enrolled at NYADA, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he had made friends with some naïve freshman when he was here moving in day. I’m convinced that’s how he’s been getting in to the parties.”

“And you’ve told the police all this?” Kurt asks.

“Of course. I can’t ever forgive him for what he did to my sister. I just can’t escape him because my parents refuse to listen.” He takes a huge breath, looking almost on the edge of a completely hyperventilating, “You don’t know how sorry I am Blaine. If I had any idea it was him, you’ve got to believe me, I would have reported him straight away. I didn’t even know he was in New York, I though he was back living with my parents.”

“I believe you,” he says simply, offering Josh a comforting smile.

“I just can’t believe it. It’s my fault he came here in the first place, and-”

“Stop,” he interrupts, “Don’t you dare. There is no way that this is your fault.”

After a short while, just taking some calming breaths, Josh starts to relax.

“Were you able to tell them anything that could help find him?” Kurt asks.

“There was a surprisingly large number of people from the statewide theatre group I was a part of that got into NYADA. I’m pretty sure he was friends with some of them. I told them what I could remember of their names, as well as the address of the freshmen I think he made friends with.”

“I take it they’re trying to find and question them then.”

“Yeah,” Josh sighs.

“Wait a second,” Kurt says suddenly. He quickly catches the attention of the police officer in the room. “Am I remembering this incorrectly, or did you have multiple sexual assault cases at NYADA, backdating to the beginning of last year?”

“That is correct Mr. Hummel,” the officers says, almost like he’s scared of the sudden anger radiating off of Kurt.

“And did you look into potential suspects among or linked to the student body, like you did for Blaine?”

“Well... yes we did,” the officer stammers.

“And you’re telling me you didn’t come across this man linked to Josh, who was likely to have friends at the university too?”

“Mr. Hummel, the purpose of that search was to look for suspects that patterns are similar to the current crime. At the time, it didn’t seem likely it was him.”

“Why?” Kurt says bluntly, “You had several sexual assault cases at the same university where you knew someone on the sex offenders register had a close link, and you didn’t think to check? Why wouldn’t you check?”

“W-well... his record was for cases surrounding children, and the victims were female-”

“Oh I see,” Kurt snaps, “So as they weren’t all women or children, it couldn’t have been him.”

“Kurt, come on,” he says, trying to get him to let it go.

“No Blaine. I need to complain about this.”

Kurt goes to storm out the room and confront somebody, but before he gets there, another officer beats him to it.

“Mr. Anderson, it’s urgent. We’ve found him.”

“What?” He says, struggling to process everything after the abrupt change in topic.

“We’ve got an address, and it is confirmed that he is present now. The police are on their way to arrest him.”

And suddenly, all the pent up stress from that day, from all these months, seems worth it. The end is in sight.


	15. Chapter 15

“So he’s in jail now?” Santana asks, pacing around the apartment.

They’d waited until the next day before telling their friends and family, not wanting to be inundated with people wanting to know what’s going on. To their surprise, once they did tell everyone, Santana had been the first to arrive at their doorstep, closely followed by Rachel, then Sam and Tina.

“He’s at the precinct,” Kurt corrects.

“Jail, precinct, whatever. He’s off the streets.”

“Now we’ve just got to find a way to keep him there,” he says softly.

“Where did they find him in the end?” Tina asks.

“Apparently he couch surfs between one of the friends Josh mentioned, and some place on the other side of town. They managed to get them to check on social media if he was at the other place at that time, and he was. After they got an arrest warrant, they arrested him straight away.”

“Yeah, and he obviously wasn’t counting on being found out, because when they arrived, it was actually him that answered the door!” Kurt snaps, starting to get angry again.

“Kurt, come on,” he says, tugging on his clothes to get him to sit down.

This is what it’s been like ever since that day; everyone on edge, tensions high. It doesn’t help that the atmosphere in the apartment has been rubbing off on Helena, resulting in a baby that just refuses to sleep, and would rather just cry.

“So what are they doing now?” Santana asks, seemingly content with what she’s heard so far.

“They’ve got to present to the grand jury to see if they can bring it to trial, then there’ll be an... arraignment I think they called it,” he says. He’s aware he sounds as though he’s reading out of a textbook, but he can’t really process much of what is happening around him. This all feels like an outer body experience. “That’ll be where they tell him what he’s accused of, and he’ll plea guilty or not guilty. Now though they’ve got the detention hearing, where they’re trying to keep him in custody throughout the trial.”

“Not to mention that they’re running around getting witness statements, and trying to get search warrants for the houses he’s been staying at as well as making him give a DNA sample,” Kurt adds.

“How long do they reckon it’ll be before it’s all over?” Tina asks.

It’s typical of Tina to bring up what he didn’t want to think about.

“Trials will probably start in a couple of weeks, but they say it could take weeks, maybe months before they reach a verdict.”

The sheer amount of information he’s had to process in the last couple of days is exhausting. Running his hands through his hair, still yet to be gelled into submission since the birth, he looks over to Rachel. As usual, she has taken over cuddling Helena. From the bundle of blankets, he can see she is squirming much more than usual, her tiny hands waving around. Every day that goes by, the more he just wants to be close to her. To forget about everything that’s happened, and just take her into his arms. But every time he goes to just look at her properly, it’s like there’s this invisible hand that pushes him back. He’d thought that knowing his attacker had been caught, and is likely to be tried for his crimes, would make him feel safer. Would stop him from having a hold over his life. But things never come easy.

* * *

The waiting is torturous. It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of hanging on tenterhooks, hoping for any little piece of information. All they’ve heard is that the judge agreed to not release him on bail, and that they’re still collecting evidence. They haven’t been granted a search warrant yet. That’s what’s making everything take so long.

Tensions in the flat are high. He’s never seen Kurt so angry. Every time they get an update, and nothing much seems to change, the doors seem to shut that much louder. The thump of footsteps on the floor get harder. Restlessness is shared among everyone. Not even the baby seems to be spared.

He’s become aware of how much he’s missing. She’s at that age now where they start growing, and don’t seem to ever stop. She’s started making small snuffling and cooing noises, noises that make his heart ache. Kurt’s taken to walking her around the apartment, talking up a storm, as though they’re both having a full conversation. He can see that the stress is really getting to Kurt now. He’s always known that looking after Helena without his help would get to him eventually, but he’d hoped he’d have been able to pull himself together by then. That he’d be able to be a father to her.

“Blaine?” Kurt calls from the kitchen.

Inside, Kurt is busy preparing a bottle while Helen squirms in his arms, his phone held to his ear with his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, taking the phone and placing it safely on the table after it becomes clear his phone call has ended.

“Thank you,” Kurt says. Sitting tentatively on the kitchen chair so as not to upset Helena further, he brings the bottle to her mouth, “That was the police again. Good news this time, the grand jury has decided to take the case to trial! Oh, and they also got the search warrants. They’re preparing to search the houses soon, and they said they’re getting the DNA sample today.”

“Great,” he says with a small smile.

Kurt smiles back before looking down at Helena.

“You’re a hungry girl today. We might need to increase what we’re giving you,” Kurt coos. He looks over to him with a teasing simile on his face, “At this rate, Daddy’s not going to have anything left to pump!”

The laugh that escapes him is not expected, but is a happy surprise. The brief glimpse of domesticity comforts him. It’s like a window into what could be their future. He just needs that push in order to get him on the journey towards it.

* * *

“Mr. Anderson, it’s good to meet you again. Do you mind if I come in?”

The police officer in charge of his case enters. He was aware that they may turn up whenever they needed to, but today is not a good day. Helena had had them up half the night, wanting to be held rather than sleep in her cot. The sleep deprivation has been really affecting them both today, and discussions about the investigation and trial are just too exhausting.

“Kurt,” he calls, “the detective is here.”

He hears some clattering from the bedroom, before a slightly disheveled Kurt rushes to the main room just away from the front door, where he and the officer are stood.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Kurt asks in a rush.

“Nothing bad, I assure you, just some updates. The searches are due to take place sometime next week, and we have managed to get DNA samples from the defendant. These are set to be sent away for testing later today. You can expect the results to come through soon.”

“That’s great,” Kurt says, “But why the visit? Usually we’re told this over the phone.”

“We need a sample from Helena. We thought it would be better to have this done at you’re home, to save you from bringing the baby into an environment, like the one down at the station.”

“What does it entail?”

“Just a cheek swab, quick and simple.”

It’s typical that when they need to go putting cotton swabs in Helena’s mouth, it has to be when she’s finally gone to sleep.

“Mr. Hummel, the department would like me to inform you that they have reviewed your complaint, and they will be writing both of you a formal letter of apology. They are also investigating how such an oversight happened, with the hope that they can educate their officers to avoid the same mistake in the future.”

“Good,” Kurt says with a nod, “I guess that’s the best I could hope for.”

The swab doesn’t take very long at all, but the storm it results in is like no other. The cries are so loud in fact, that it is difficult to hear the officer say goodbye before he leaves. Luckily, Kurt manages to get her to calm down after around twenty minutes, but he can’t help the yearning feeling he gets listening to her. He just wishes he could comfort her.

What he doesn’t see, is the curious look on Kurt’s face as he watches him.

* * *

Kurt’s been acting strangely all day. In truth, he’s been a bit off the past couple of days, but today is much worse. He keeps checking his phone, before glancing up to see if he’s watching. Subtlety was never really his strong point.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, after catching him doing it again for the twelfth time that day.

“No,” Kurt says, not at all convincing, “No, what would be wrong?”

“Nothing... I guess,” he says, suspiciously.

Kurt continues as though nothing’s happened. He briefly wonders if maybe he’s starting to get his OCD-like symptoms again, just like when his Dad was waiting on his results, when Kurt’s phone buzzes.

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt says, surprise in his voice, however he can’t quite work out how genuine it is. “My Dad’s just texted me. He says he’s just flown in, and wants to see me. He probably wants to apologise.”

Before he can reply, Kurt starts rushing around collecting his things. He’s avoiding looking at him, averting his eyes every time he passes him.

“Helena’s asleep, but you can call me anytime if you need help. I’ll only be about a fifteen minute walk away, otherwise I should be back in a couple of hours,” Kurt says in a rush.

“Wait, Kurt,” he says in a panic, “You’re leaving me with her? Alone?”

“You’ll be fine. I won’t be gone long. I’ll see you soon,” Kurt says, moving towards the door.

“Kurt, wait,” he says, following closely behind him, “You can’t leave me. Kurt-”

“Bye, I love you,” Kurt says quickly, before he shuts the door behind him.

For a moment, he stands there in shock. This can’t be happening to him. Not now.

In a daze, he walks over to a the nursery. Standing outside the door, he has one hand poised on the door handle. Maybe he doesn’t need to go in. If he just stands outside, is close to her, he’ll be able to tell if something is wrong.

He must stand there, his forehead pressed against the cold wood, for about half an hour, before he hears it. Tiny cries coming from the other side of the door. His heart begins to beat harder as he realises he must go in.

The door feels heavier than usual, but all he can focus on is the waving hand he can just about see in the cot.

Peering over the side of the cot, he looks upon his daughter, properly, for the first time. He can tell she’s gotten bigger. Her cheeks are filling out, and her tiny arms are chubbier than before. With her cries, her face is all screwed up in an adorable expression.

She’s beautiful.

“What is it?” He whispers softly to her, “What’s wrong sweetie?”

With a tentative hand, he reaches out to to soothe her by rubbing her stomach. Her cries quieten, but still, they don’t stop completely. Checking her diaper, he sees it’s not wet.

“When was the last time you were fed? You must be hungry.”

It pains him to leave her as she is, crying in her crib, but he’s just not ready to hold her yet. He doesn’t want the first time to be when she’s unhappy, and he’s full of jitters.

Opening the fridge, he looks for the now familiar sight of her bottles, yet there are none to be found. Desperately, he shuffles around, looking behind the various groceries for a bottle he might have missed. There are none. He hadn’t realised Kurt hadn’t asked him to pump today. Everything’s adding up to this all being part of a plan. A smart plan, yet still a fairly harsh plan.

He hasn’t got time to sterilise a bottle and pump now. He can’t leave her to cry, she needs to be fed. She needs him to be her father.

Steeling himself for what he must do, he walks back to the nursery.

He’s not sure if he’s stalling, or if he’s just trying to help his nerves, but he takes his time to make the room more comforting. It’s dark out by now, and the lamp by the rocking chair casts a very soft light in the room. He turns on the little music player, a soft lullaby joining the whimpering cries in the room. He makes sure to grab the thickest, softest blanket, and the plumpest pillow they have, to cushion against the bars of the rocking chair.

Finally, he realises there nothing more he can do to buy him time.

“Okay,” he whispers shakily, “Okay sweetie, I’m here. I’m here now.”

He unclips the baby sleeping bag, trying his hardest not to jostle her with his shaking hands. With the blanket his mother knitted for him, he wraps Helena snug, before lifting her out of the cot. She’s lighter than he’d imagined, the chubbiness just an illusion. It takes all his remaining strength not to cry at the feeling of his daughter in his arms for the first time.

Now, cradled close to him, her cries have even more impact. He hadn’t noticed before, but the unfortunate side effect they have on him has happened again. If there was a physical sign of his yearning over the past few weeks, it would be this; the leaking. It’s been almost torturous how his body has been responding to her, while he can’t bring himself to help. But now he can.

Once on the rocking chair, he takes a deep breath, before moving his shirt out of the way. He’s grateful that he hasn’t switched back to wearing the tight fitting polo shirts he was so found of. Rubbing gently at her mouth, she opens wide. It takes a few moments, but she manages to latch on before happily feeding, no longer crying or squirming around. Just content in his arms.

It’s slightly uncomfortable. Every now and then it hurts. It’s amazing.

He takes this moment to truly look at her, trying to commit every detail to his mind, and make up for lost time. There’s a light scattering of hair on her head, already with loose curls. She’s got his eyes. She’s got his nose. All things he knows, that he’s been told, but seeing them for himself is different. She’s got the tiniest birth mark, just under her jaw. He didn’t know that. And when she feeds, she curls her hand into a fist. With his free hand, he uses his thumb to stoke over her cheek. It’s so soft.

Relaxing back into the chair, his fears from earlier start to subside.

“I love you,” he says, “And I’m never going to let you down again. I’m going to make sure that man can never touch us again. And he’s not going to have a hold over our live any longer, okay? I’ll make sure of it.”

When Kurt arrives a few hours later, around when they’d be going to bed, it’s to the sight of Blaine and Helena both asleep on the sofa, Helena slowly moving up and down on Blaine’s chest.

And when Blaine wakes up the next morning, there’s a note waiting for him.

_I’d say I’m sorry, but I really can’t argue with the results_

_~ Kurt x_


	16. Chapter 16

When Blaine wakes up the next morning, the first thing he notices is that Helena’s gone, replaced with a blanket. Rubbing a hand over his face, he tries to orient himself. Vaguely, he can hear Kurt in the kitchen, muttering to the baby.

His hair a huge curly mess, one side flat from where his head had been pressed into the sofa back, he pads his way into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Kurt teases, a self satisfied smile on his face.

“Morning,” he mumbles, going straight for the coffee pot.

“I see you and Helena had a good time last night,” Kurt says, gesturing to the infant in his arms.

“Yeah. You could say we had a sort of forced breakthrough.”

“I am sorry about that, but I’d got the feeling you wanted to hold her over the past week, you just didn’t know how to start. When my Dad told me he was coming, it was like the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh, so it _was_ all a setup?” He says, half joking, “How did it go by the way?”

“He apologised,” Kurt sighs, “But I told him I can’t completely forgive him until he apologised to you. We spent the rest of the time talking about everything that’s going on, and how things are back in Ohio,”

“Kurt, if you want to get back in touch with your Dad, you don’t need to worry about me. “

“You’re my family too. You and Helena. If he can’t apologies to you, then I don’t want to be in contact with him.”

He doesn’t reply. He knows he isn’t going to change Kurt’s mind, no matter how hard he tries.

“Speaking of last night, there’s still no bottles in the fridge, and someone is getting very hungry.”

Despite how tired he feels, he takes his daughter in his arms again.

Things are finally starting to fall into place.

* * *

“Mr. Anderson, it’s great to see you again,” the officer in charge of his case says.

Once again, he finds himself down at the police station. He’s been here so many times, it’s starting to feel almost normal to be here.

“Good afternoon officer,” he says.

“I have good news today. In the week since we saw you, we have collected all the evidence we think we need for next weeks trial.”

The trial date really snuck up on him, and in all honesty, he’s not completely sure he’s ready.

“Now we’re so close, I’d like to introduce you to the head of the team of the prosecution, who will be fighting your case in court.”

Following the officer, he comes to another waiting-room-like room. The person who was once seated, looking over some files in front of them, stands as they enter.

“Mr. Anderson, this is Nichole Greenfield. Mrs. Greenfield will talk you through everything. If you have any problems, I’ll be right outside.”

The officer leaves, and Mrs. Greenfield turns to him, closing the file she had been looking over. She has a kind face, but there’s a look in her eye that shows she means business.

“Mr. Anderson, please take a seat,” she says, getting straight to business. 

He’s not used to the formality. Ever since his confession, people had been treating him like a child, worried about hurting his feelings. It actually feels good to be spoke to as an adult.

“So you know that you will not need to testify in court due to the circumstances of the crime. My colleague gave you the pre-trial interview, are you aware that this will be used in court as evidence instead?”

“Yes,” he replies, fiddling with his hands.

“Okay, so the case involves seven other victims. Six of those you probably already know about. Those are the other NYADA students. The other victim is a reopened case, the defendant’s sister.”

Josh had told him Nichole had gotten the case to court again. The new cases, and the sheer amount of evidence, was enough to try him again.

“With these victims, the defendant is being charged with five counts of rape in the first degree, one count of attempted rape in the first degree, and one count of a course of sexual conduct against a child in the first degree. With your case, we are charging him with aggravated rape in the first degree because it resulted in a pregnancy, which is seen by the law as potential further harm to the victim. This will also remove his parental rights of custody and visitation to the child. These sentences are expected to be lengthened due to a previous conviction of child pornography, so we are looking at a sentence that is likely to last the rest of his life.”

Without his control, he releases a relieved sigh. If they can prove this, he’ll never have to worry about him again.

“Do you have any questions before we move on?”

“With the parental rights, is it possible that the jury could choose not to take them away, even if they convict him?” He asks. It’s been his biggest worry. The thought of being forced to share childcare makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“No. In New York, once the father has been convicted of the rape which conceived the child, his rights are removed. There’s no compromise.”

“Okay. Okay, good.”

“Okay, so onto the evidence.” The lawyer’s tone turns much less serious. “All the DNA samples collected at the crisis centres matched. It has also been confirmed that the defendant... is the biological father of your child.” She says awkwardly, the topic obviously slightly uncomfortable, even for a lawyer.

“Right,” he breathes, “So if the DNA matched, doesn’t that mean it’s proven. I don’t understand how we can still lose?”

“The defendant is still able to fight against the charges that don’t have DNA evidence. Those that do, he can argue that there was consent. I wouldn’t worry too much. One of the cases is against a child, so as he has been charged with child pornography before, it is likely that the jury will believe it was non consensual.”

“Thank you,” he says with as much sincerity as he can.

“It’s my pleasure. I want this man off the streets, so I promise, I am going to try as hard as I can to prosecute him.”

* * *

“Okay, so there’s bottles in the fridge, all you have to do is warm it up. She’ll need feeing every two and a half hours. Don’t forget she needs tummy time. She’s still having quite a lot of naps a day, make sure you get her to sleep in time or she’ll get _very_ cranky. There’s a note on the fridge with any numbers that you may need: mine, Blaine’s, her doctors...”

He bounces Helena in his arms, listening to Kurt ramble as he paces around the kitchen. Rachel and Santana have offered to look after Helena while they went to the trial. Kurt had only agreed, so long as Sam and Tina were on call to step in if they started to struggle. It wasn’t so much that he thought they wouldn’t be able to look after her, more that he thought they would end up in an argument.

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Rachel says, trying to stop Kurt from stressing.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Kurt says, continuing to fuss.

He walks over to him in the corner, looking down at Helena. Bouncing the infant, he tries to cox a smile out of him, and it doesn’t take long before he succeeds. 

Kurt sighs in defeat, hanging his head.

“Okay,” he says, “It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine. I don’t understand how you’re dealing with this so well.”

“I think I’ve used up all my emotions. I’m just happy we’re finally here.”

Saying goodbye is difficult, Kurt anxious to leave Helena with Rachel and Santana, and him unwilling to leave her after finally making a connection. They do make it though, despite being on slightly on edge.

“My Dad said he wants to come,” Kurt says as they walk down the street. “I can tell him not to if you’re not comfortable. He doesn’t even have to sit with us.”

“No, it’s fine. He is family. He should be there, if not for me, then for you and Helena.”

Kurt lets out a discontented sigh.

“I’ve told you before, you and Helena are my priority,” Kurt says.

“And I’ve told you before, that you’re Dad is important to you. You should be allowed to have whatever relationship with him you want, regardless of me.”

“I think we’re just going to have to agree to disagree on this.”

Arriving at the court, he finally can take in the how pivotal this moment is. The self confidence he’s tried so hard to build up again is struggling under the weight of everything. This is it. Even if they don’t reach a verdict today, it’s the beginning of the end.

He can’t wait.

“Kurt? Blaine?”

Turning around, trying to locate the owner of the voice, they see Burt (a slightly more downtrodden Burt), behind them.

“Dad. Hi,” Kurt says awkwardly.

“Do you mind if I talk to Blaine alone?”

He and Kurt make eye contact, Kurt silently asking him if he’s okay with it. With a slight nod of his head, Kurt moves slightly away to give them some privacy.

“I just want to say, I am so sorry Blaine. I should never have said all those things to you.”

“It’s okay Mr. Hummel,” he says, unable to make proper eye contact, “I understand.”

“I was angry. Everything we had all thought turned out to not be true, but I understand why you did it. Everything was just so confusing, and I felt that my son was suffering. I took that out on you, and I apologise.”

It feels good to know he never truly believed any of what he said that day. They were the things that had been playing on his mind for months, thinking others would think that of him.

“I forgive you sir-”

“Burt,” Burt interrupts him. “You’re family now son. You can call me Burt.”

* * *

Trials are not fun. At best, it’s mind numbing. At worst, it’s painful. It’s nothing like it is in the movies; people shouting at one another, dramatic revelations and confessions in the cross examination. Everything is stiff, formal, and structured.

The most unsettling part isn’t seeing Nathan. Months ago, the sight of him would probably have reduced him to an anxious, panicky mess. Now, he can look at him, the man who almost destroyed him completely, and know that no matter what he did to him, he was able to build himself up again. That in the end, he was the stronger one.

No, the most unsettling part isn’t seeing Nathan, it’s seeing the other victims. Looking into the eyes of other people who have been been through the same things as him, some more traumatising, some less, by the same man, he can see that same pain in their eyes. It’s the pain of someone who has had their spirit broken, and is trying to build it back up again.

Much of the proceedings are a blur, only hearing snippets of conversations. He vaguely registers them playing his interview, along with the the other victims. There’s the cross examination of the witnesses. He only listens slightly when it’s Fredrik, giving evidence on how he was traumatised by how he was behaving in the hospital. What does catch his full attention, is Nichole.

He’d seen her sitting next to Josh, visibly separated from the rest of her family, who were there for the brother she was fighting against. She’s bitter, hell-bent on revenge. Angry at how many years her brother has gone free after what he did to her. She’s chosen not to have a recording, choosing to be questioned in court. The refusal of the special circumstances shows a level of self confidence he hopes to get to one day.

Although he hasn’t been giving his full attention to everything going on, he can pick up on the atmosphere in the court. The defence is strong, must have cost the Johnson’s a great deal of money, but the evidence is just too great. It’s the evidence of their physical injuries, as well as the psychological damages, that seems to create a shift in the jury. Before, it could be argued it was consensual. Now, it seems almost cruel to suggest such a thing. The only one that it seems like they could lose is Daniel’s, the attempted rape.

Before he knows it, the jury are making their way to the jury deliberation room. He’s aware that the case is moving much faster than others of their sort. According to the officers, the huge amount of evidence, including the sheer number of victims past and present, have helped enormously. It’s made the defence crumble, and hopefully, a verdict to come much sooner.

He can see Nathan. He’s starting to sweat. Surely he must know he’s losing. His father can be seen glaring at Josh and Nichole, his mother muttering angrily. He wonders what it must be like, to be so far in denial, that you push away two of your children and instead stick up for the one that is a serial rapist.

It takes exactly an hour and twenty seven minutes (Kurt had been counting), before the jury return. He gathers together every bit of focus he has left to ensure he pays attention to this part.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asks.

There’s a confirmation, and suddenly it feels as though all the air in the room has disappeared. Kurt grips his hand, hard. This is it. No one had ever imagined that this could be over so quickly, but here he is. This is happening. Now.

The bailiff collects the verdicts, handing them to the judge. He spends a what feels like an eternity looking through them, everyone holding their breath as he does. Finally, he finishes, tapping the papers on the desk to straighten them out.

“The verdicts seem to be in proper order.”

Clearing his throat, the judge sits up straight, ready to reveal the result.

“This is the district court of Eastern District, New York State, the state of New York versus Nathan J. Johnson.”

The judge looks up. His eyes seem to pierce through the room, not quite a glare, but a pointed expression.

“Verdict count one: Attempted rape in the first degree. We the jury imparted and sworn in the above and titled case do upon our oaths find as follows: defendant is _not guilty_ of the crime of attempted rape in the first degree.”

It’s a bad way to start off. He knows it was the least likely count to pass, but the blow doesn’t hurt any less. He hopes to God it isn’t a sign of how the rest of the trail is going to go.

“Count two: Rape in the first degree. Defendant is _guilty_ of the crime of rape in the first degree, and punishment is set at twelve years.”

He feels as though he could cry in relief. Nathan’s mother shouts out from the other side of the court room, a scene of utter disbelief.

“Count three: ...”

The others all reach a guilty verdict. So far, he’s already facing a sixty year sentence, but it’s not the answer to all his problems yet. He still needs his to be guilty, for Helena. He doesn’t even want to entertain the idea of sharing visitation with him.

“Count seven,” the judge says. This is it, this is his one, “Aggravated rape in the first degree. Defendant is _guilty_ of the crime of aggravated rape in the first degree. Punishment is set at fifteen years, with the termination of the parental rights of custody and visitation for the child conceived, in accordance to bill A05299.”

Finally, it feels as though he can breath properly. If he wasn’t still healing, and it was acceptable in court, he would get up and dance in celebration. Instead, he wraps Kurt in a crushing hug, burying his face into his neck.

“Count eight: Course of sexual conduct against a child in the first degree. Defendant is _guilty_ of a course of sexual conduct against a child in the first degree, and punishment is set at twenty years.”

There’s a similar scene found when he looks over to Josh and Nichole, only their’s has a greater number of tears. He’s never even met the girl, but he feels immensely happy for her.

“Let me ask the jury, is this your verdict so say you all?”

Each member of the jury gives an affirmative ‘yes’.

“Mr. Johnson, you and your attorneys please come forward,” the judge says, telling, not asking.

Nathan, walking as though he has his tail trapped between his legs, shuffles over.

“Mr. Johnson, this jury finds you guilty of the various counts. You will be remanded to the custody of the Kings County Sheriff for formal sentencing.”

They talk of dates, and doesn’t know of what else. All he can pay attention to is the handcuffs that are now restricting him, and the police officers ready to take him away. For him though, it’s with his head held high that he leaves the court.

He now knows what people mean when they say they are walking on clouds.

Outside the court, Josh runs over to him.

“Blaine?” He says cautiously.

“Hi Josh,” he says, “I’m so happy fo your sister.”

“Thank you. I’m really happy for you too.” He looks down, seemingly nervous about what he wants to say. “I just wanted to ask... I know it’s kind of not my place, and now is not really the time, but... What my brother did was terrible, and I know Kurt is Helena’s father, not him, but I just wanted to ask. I want to be part of her life... as her uncle. I want to help you out, make up for where my family has hurt you.”

He thinks about it for a moment. He wants Nathan to be a distant memory. To not have anything to do with him. But he cannot deny that Josh is a good guy, and he is a part of Helena. She deserves to know her story, no matter how horrible it is.

“I’d love that,” he says simply, for there is nothing left to say. They are family. One complicated, unconventional, mess of a family, but a family nonetheless.

“Thank you,” Josh says tearfully.

It’s truly a miracle that amongst all the darkness, there can be a small light of hope.

* * *

Later that night, still reeling from the events of the day, he lies there just staring at the ceiling. He feels Kurt crawl into the bed beside him, his arms wrapping around him.

“Kurt?” He mutters quietly, into the darkness.

“Yeah?” Kurt whispers back.

“Thank you. For everything. I couldn’t have gotten through all of this without you.”

Kurt presses a kiss to his forehead.

“And I’d do it all again.”

Sleep will come, soon, but for now he just lies there. The future looks much brighter now. It’s a little different to how he’d first imagined it, much rougher around the edges, a few tweaks here and there. But lying here, now, it’s doesn’t matter. Despite how hard they tried to break it, it’s still there, and no matter how damaged it got, it’s still perfect.

It’s perfect, and it’s his, and his alone.


	17. Epilogue

**25th July 2014**

“Let’s go find Daddy. Oh look, is he in here? There he is!”

Fixing his bowtie in the mirror, he hears someone shuffling into the room. Turning around, he sees Cooper, bent over holding onto Helena’s hands as she tries her best to walk.

“Has Uncle Cooper stolen you again?” He says, scooping the toddler off the floor and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Grandma is supposed to be looking after you.”

“You know what she’s like. She’s taken to ordering around the catering staff now. It’s a good job Kurt’s busy right now. I don’t want to see what it would be like with the two of them stressing.”

“You weren’t there on this one’s first birthday,” he says, bouncing Helena up and down in his arms.

It’s quite unbelievable how much she’s grown. It seems every few months or so, she’s outgrowing her clothes. Kurt’s been loving being able to make so may new ones, but even he’s been struggling with her hair. Unfortunately for her, she has definitely got his hair. A mess of dark curls.

“Speaking of Kurt, have you seem him yet?”

“Papa!” Helena squeals, bursting into giggles.

“Yes, Papa!”

“Yeah we’ve seen him,” Cooper says, smiling at Helena, “He’s doing that thing he always does when he’s excited but nervous at the same time. He did get very stressed out when he saw that Helena isn’t in her dress yet.”

“Yeah, why is that?” He asks, sending his brother a playful glare.

“She was playing,” Cooper says, “It felt cruel to stop her.”

“Right, well could you, or anyone, get her dressed now. We’re due to start soon.”

“Ooh, don’t get too nervous squirt.”

“Shut up Cooper,” he shouts as the man leaves, turning back to try and straighten his bowtie for what must be the sixth time.

In half an hour, he’s going to get married to the love of his life. They’re still young, still probably foolish, but he doesn’t care. They’ve made it through so much already, he’s sure they can make it.

By the end of today, he’s going to be the happiest man in the world.

* * *

**2nd August 2014**

“Is that all you’re wearing?” Kurt says from the sun-lounger.

They’re on their honeymoon, a beach hotel in LA. The weather’s beautiful, and it’s been great to get away from the craziness of their lives. They’re both due to go back to NYADA at the beginning of September, Kurt having already returned a month after the trial had wrapped up, and then to vogue.com soon after that. This getaway is one of their last times to relax before their lives start to truly get busy.

“Are you complaining?” He replies with a wink.

Kurt laughs, turning away from him.

“I know I shouldn’t be complaining about it, because it’s been so nice to just have some time to ourselves, but I’m really missing Helena,” he says.

“I know, me too. Let’s just try and enjoy our time of not thinking about feeds, naps, and diapers.”

They sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sun and the sound of the sea. It’s nice. Relaxing. The complete opposite of their normal lives.

“B?” Kurt asks suddenly.

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to ask... now that we’re married, I want to adopt Helena.”

He sits up quickly, looking Kurt straight in the eye. He’s serious about this.

“Really?” He says, not quite believing him.

“Of course. I know either way she’s going to grow up as my daughter, but it would really mean a lot to me if it was official.”

“Kurt, I think that would be amazing,” he says, trying not to cry.

He wraps Kurt in a crushing hug, a huge smile on his face. How he found such an amazing man, he doesn’t know.

* * *

**14th November 2018**

“Helena, come on,” he shouts, waiting by the front door, “We’re going to be late.”

“I’m ready Daddy,” she says, rushing out of her bedroom with her backpack in hand.

Her hair is, as usual, a huge mess. It would be much easier to manage if it was cut shorter, but it seems such a shame to cut it. When it’s done properly, the curls are just adorable. As fast as he can, he manages to get them into two bunches, before helping her put on her backpack.

Helena’s elementary school is a fifteen minute walk away, and it can be quite a pleasant walk (when the weather’s nice). Today is not a pleasant day. It’s not often he wished he lived in an area where they had to drive instead of walk, but today is one. It’s murky grey outside, the rain bouncing off the ground with the force of it. He has to keep an eye on Helena, making sure to steer her out of the way of puddles she would otherwise walk straight into.

“Daddy, why does it rain?” Helena asks, peering up at him curiously.

“I don’t know sweetie. Why don’t you ask Miss Roberts?” He says quickly.

He hates to be so dismissive with her, but he’s really not in the right mood to be answering questions right now. Something’s been playing on his mind for weeks now, and he’d decided he was going to finally do something about it today.

Although she’s been going for over a year now, it’s still hard to say goodbye at school. She’s growing up so fast. Today it hurts that bit more, for he doesn’t really want to do what he promised himself he would. Still, he forces himself to leave, walking in the direction of the supermarket.

He’s been feeling off for three weeks now. It’s a very familiar feeling, and he can’t tell if it’s welcome or not yet. He’s sure he’ll know by the end of the day though.

He’d gone and picked up two tests from the supermarket, but decided not to take them. He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes as last time. He needs to be more open, from the start.

After a very unproductive day, spent mostly spacing out thinking about the possibility that his suspicion is correct, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, hot chocolate in hand, when Kurt arrives.

“Hi honey,” Kurt says, too busy fussing around with his things to notice his spaced out state. Once he’s finished putting all his things away, Kurt must notice that he never answered.

“Hey, what’s wrong,” he asks, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

With a deep breath, he prepares himself for what he’s about to say.

“So, I think I’m pregnant,” he says, choosing to not beat around the bush.

Kurt releases a shaky breath, falling into the chair beside him.

“Wow,” he breaths. After a few seconds silence, he asks, “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, a hand rubbing his face. “It’s hard to separate it from last time.”

“Have you done a test?” Kurt asks.

“I bought two, but I haven’t taken them yet.”

“Do you want to do them now?”

Making eye contact with Kurt, he’s struck by how earnest his expression is. With a small nod, he stands up, moving towards the bathroom. Kurt, standing up with him, presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. No words are exchanged. There’s no need for any.

The tests don’t take long to take, but it’s the waiting that gets to you. He calls Kurt into the bathroom once they’re both sitting on the bathroom counter, face down. Kurt immediately wraps him in a hug from behind, hooking his chin over his shoulder. It’s comfortable, familiar. His past fears he feels subsiding. Maybe this won’t be so bad. They’ve done it before, under some of the most difficult circumstances. They could easily do it again.

The buzzer goes off, but he doesn’t move.

“Do you want me to do it?” Kurt asks.

“Yes please,” he whispers.

Kurt takes the tests, turning them over so only he could see them, before sighing.

“They’re positive,” he says.

Positive. It’s almost unbelievable. Before, he didn’t know whether he’d be able to go through it all again. Whether the memories of last time would be too much. But now, with his husband, in the home they built with their beautiful little family, he doesn’t feel any of that. He’s pregnant with Kurt’s baby, and he couldn’t be happier.

Kurt, always looking out for his feelings, is trying his hardest to hold back his own smile. He’s happy about this, Kurt’s happy about this. It’s truly a miracle.

“Would it be totally crazy if I said I’m happy?” He says, a small smile on his face.

“If you’re crazy, then I’m crazy too,” Kurt says, wrapping him in his arms, tears starting to fall.

It’s hard. He can’t completely escape the old memories, but he’s stronger against them now. He makes sure to enjoy every day of it, even when it sucks. And eight months later, little James Alexander Anderson-Hummel joins their family. They’re complete, they’re happy, and no matter how much they’ve faced, nothing is ever going to bring them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, but this is the first fanfiction I’ve ever completed and uploaded. I’m so thankful for everyone’s lovely comments. They’ve really helped me feel better about my writing, and some of you even influenced the plot of the story!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed how it ended. If you have any ideas for follow up ideas in this universe, feel free to drop me a prompt at my [tumblr](https://irrelevantemily.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And finally, don’t forget to check out [Who’s the Father?](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9482765/1/Who-s-the-Father) by FrostedHoodies, which inspired this story.
> 
> Thank you!


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